Nebula
by ButterflyBird
Summary: Christine lives on the streets of Paris. She has learned to survive on her own, mostly. She enters the life of a mysterious masked boy, who unlike her has been exposed to a different sort of harsh reality about the way of the world, he has relinquished whatever hope he has of freeing himself of it. Perhaps, someone else needs to do it for him. This is their story.
1. Introduction

******Warning: This story is rated M. Expect Mature themes, no I will not change certain things to please the readers who do not enjoy gritty stories so please do not send me messages about this as I have received in the past. Thank you and enjoy. - Krystal**

**Chapter I**

No one would notice. Not with the way they carried themselves through the street. It is not that they were too hurried, just too enthralled in their daily lives. The people of Paris were always walking leisurely. It did not matter that they had places to go to. Rushing was not in their vocabulary. And despite their leisure paces it seemed that they could not notice what was happening around them.

Each couple was wrapped in a cocoon of perfect stability and peace. The people who groveled on the side of the street were nothing to them but pieces of the cement.

Christine did not expect them to notice her as she sat in the alleyway, huddling against the wall for some sort of comfort. Her skinny limbs did nothing to shield her from the cold winds as they whipped to and fro. And when she dropped her head to her knees she was certain that her bones would crack from the weight of her head.

"I must get to shelter," she breathed shakily, looking back up to the sky nervously.

It was a cloudy day, and it was clear to her that there would be snow falling from the sky. There was a crispy scent in the air.

Standing from where she huddled Christine grabbed her wool cloak and draped it around her skinny and short frame. It did nothing to protect her as the wind blew. It tickled her frail and dry skin. It made her itchier then she already was.

_But where do I go? _She wondered as she began to trudge out the alley, embarrassed as she finally stepped out. _Why should I be embarrassed? It is not as if anyone shall take notice of me. _

Christine had been living this way for one year. Her father's measly winnings on the street held out for only a few months before she was forced to grovel at the feet of the elite. And even then she earned nothing. When she sang they looked on, admired, but never handed her a coin.

She was now sixteen years of age, and her wide blue eyes had dimmed with malnutrition, her limbs were all bone and skin, her cheeks were not pink, or pale, they were greyed with grime and residue, and her hair was thin and falling off of her head in chunks, giving her an androgynous appearance. The cloak, which had been her companion for most of her life, shielded her body. _But it is hardly a cloak, _she noted, _it is an over-sized rag. _It made it easier for her to appear less than female.

She supposed it was a blessing, there were cruel men on these streets, and often she had to hide from them in dark alleys or amongst trash. _I blend right in, _she thought.

As Christine walked she tried her best to keep long the wall. The broad gowns that the ladies of Paris wore took up a lot of space.

"Come see the carnival Ladies and gentlemen!" Hollered a boisterous voice as Christine turned a street corner. She narrowed her eyes in on a man standing against a street post, handing out pieces of paper, "there shall be a spectacular show of wonders and horrors for your curious eyes! Elephants on three legs! Women with no limbs! Men with no eyes! A child born of death himself! Monkeys trained for only your amusement! And spectacles that would astound even the most critical skeptic! Come see the Carnival ladies and gentlemen!" he began his routine again.

Christine approached the man curiously, her eyes widened as she took him in. He was tall with a round belly and black whiskers around his mouth. His eyes were small black orbs inside of his meaty face, and his trousers were striped red and gold, his jacket was ripped and grimy, faded but also gold and red.

He swiveled his head towards her and grinned, all black and yellow teeth, "Would you like to see the show little one?"

Swallowing nervously Christine nodded. She would like nothing more, would he grant her such a wish? She dared hoped so. _How kind of him to notice my presence…_

"Well do ye' have the money?" He asked curiously, stepping towards a stranger who passed by to hand him the paper, the man took it dismissively and threw it to the ground the next. Christine frowned at the rude display but it seemed to her that the man who had given him the paper did not take notice, "well?"

She shook her head.

The man made a 'humph' noise from his throat and shrugged, "then it appears you cannot see the show. Now get on little boy, I too must make a living."

Christine frowned. Cannot get into the show? Was that a challenge? she wondered and moved past him as he restarted his routine. As her foot came down she felt her toes rest upon the edge of a strange texture. She looked down to observe what it was and bent down to pick up the paper which the man had so rudely tossed aside.

In big bold letters it read _Le Carnaval des Freaks! _Christine ran her eyes down the page and huddled the wool cloak closer as she began walking. There was also an address on the sheet of paper and a gritty illustration of what she assumed to be a monkey with cymbals in its hands.

Biting her lip nervously Christine looked up from the sheet and back to the man who was still handing out papers. Not one passer by escaped him.

She was desperately curious about this place. Perhaps she could find a job there, and make enough money to buy a pair of shoes, or better yet, food.

It was better than anything else she might have done. She did not know the nearest place to find shelter anyway, so with that in mind Christine began her trek to the Carnival of Freaks... they would not keep her out.

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**:O That's it for Chapter I! Tell me what you all think. And yes - more will be revealed about Christine, and no this is not modern day :) So - please review and give me feedback! And thank you to the readers of Paradigm who followed me here, I hope I did not disappoint!**

**Review!**


	2. The Red Valleys

**Chapter II**

Night had fallen, and with it the noise went up into shouts and clamors. Women played with fire and tigers roared as they were teased and tempted into attacks. Men drank and laughed at the display of the stunted individuals who 'tripped' for their amusement, their stubby legs were more then used to walking. These smaller individuals only pretended to fall so that the taller ones would laugh, pick them up, and pass them around like children.

And somewhere in a tent separate from the more 'appropriate' shows there was another type of noise. One more angry and forceful then even the crowd was comfortable with.

"Get up!" The man shouted from outside the cage. The audience who had filled the small tent stretched onto their toes to watch with interest from outside of the circular cage which encased the man and the thing.

From within the rectangular prison the devil's child glared at his feet stubbornly. They were encased in small brown shoes. The shoes themselves were too small, too torn, too tight, and his nails were cracked, broken from the ill-fitting things he had been forced to endure for so long.

"I said get up!" The man roared at him, pressing his face against the cage so hard that it threatened to pop in between the bars at any given moment.

The devils son raised his gaze up, not flinching when he heard the horrified gasps of women and men alike. They all inched back, away from him as if he had sent out a wave of water towards them, but he knew very well that it was just disgust at his face. Women wailed and shrieked. He even caught sight of one fainting out of the corner of his eye, and a man fanned her while keeping his eyes locked on the demonic boy.

"Stand up," the black eyed man spit from the other side of his cell.

Narrowing his eyes the boy stood, stooping a little low as the holding space did not allow him to stand to his full height. They always played this game, he and the man who deemed himself his Master. The boy would put on a show of defiance, the man would viciously demand things of him, and in the end whether he followed the orders as soon as they were demanded of him, or not, he was whipped.

"Come here, boy," the man ordered lowly.

Slowly the male came forward, balling his skinny fingers until his hands formed a fist. All around him people shuddered, repulsed at the sight of him.

When he reached the front of the cage the man unlocked it and released him into the open area inside of another circular cage. The audience stood just outside of it.

_How proper, _the 'child' thought with a glint in his stare as he waited for further instruction.

"Shall we punish the heathen?" The man cried out to the crowd, they all consented with either silence or shouts of agreement, "shirt off boy!"

He hated this part.

Taking off his already torn shirt he could hear the sounds of revulsion as they moved through the crowd. It always reminded him of just how disgusting he truly was. Even he did not dare look down at his body, afraid of what he might find there.

Without warning the man snapped his arm out and a hot slice cut across the boy's chest, he released a hiss and stiffened, the pain flared and he clenched his jaw, shivering at it and glaring at the man as he gave him a savage grin and his hand flashed out again. This time the smaller male saw the whip as it came, he bared himself as it sliced across his stomach this time. Men shouted for a more brutal punishment as the younger male began to crack under the pain.

The ringleader was hitting him harder now, approaching as the boy backed away, turning his body this way and that to try and disperse the lashes. His arms came up on his head as he began to sinking to the ground, over and over the lashes fell on his back, so hard, so quickly, with such an amazing precision that he could not focus on anything else.

Even the sound of the laughter and wailing had drifted. He had once thought that the wails were of pity, but it became all too clear that they were of regret for what they had stepped into, not for him as much for themselves. The old scars on his back protested against the new ones being built upon it. He wondered if his back looked like a valley of drained rivers and mountain ranges. He imagined there were a few volcanos there too, and perhaps craters as well.

"Stand up boy!" the man yelled over him.

_This routine once again? _He thought without saying anything. His breathing was shallow, and with some difficulty he came to a stand, knowing what was coming next. Locking his jaw he stared at the man dangerously, promising him death, perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but one day.

His fist connected with the young male's stomach violently. He would have vomited if there was anything to release.

He kicked, and punched at the demonic child, watching him crumple and struggle to breathe as his bones protested. It was a shock to everyone involved, including the victim of the beating, that his bones hadn't snapped from any of this yet.

When the ordeal was over, and he was seeing lights, the show ended with a claim that God would be satisfied that Satan's child was punished that night. A roar of clapping went up in the air and the man led all the people out, well aware that the boy was in no condition to move.

_One day, _the miserable boy thought as he breathed through the pain in his lungs, _you will find that I am standing over your corpse Javert, _his wrists shrieked with pain as he struggled to sit up. He gave up and flopped back down. Rolling onto his side and staring at the darkness of his closed lids with his arms thrown over his head, he struggling to breathe. His lungs were on fire again._ I will end your life happily. Then you will know that I am not the devil's child, but the devil himself._

He began a slow crawl towards the cage again, seeking the solace of his mask.

On his hands and knees he entered and reached forward for the thing that shielded his entire face. It was cut crudely out of what he believed to be a cow and then given to him as a gift. He had taken it silently and put it on, well aware of how others laughed at the sight of the crudely cut thing. But it worked.

Quietly he lowered himself down to the hay and held onto his ribs, it felt as if though they were going to pop out of his thin skin at any moment.

He had not noticed the blue eyed shadow who had watched the ending of the show with tears in her eyes and hands clapped over her mouth.

She ran out of there quickly before he could notice, unsure if she wanted to work here after all.

Christine moved quickly through the carnival areas and tried to keep her eyes peeled for anyone who might be watching her. But her eyes were blurry from what she had just seen and her mind was filled with visions of the body. Bloody, thin, skeletal in every sense of the word. She had not gotten a good look, and she had not even seen the boy's face, but she knew that it had to be something horrible, for people murmured of his demonic appearance.

_Papa would be horrified, _she thought as she was about to slip out of the carnival area. But then she stopped.

_How long has that poor boy been enduring this? _The thought made her tremble and she turned around once quickly, staring back at all the people who laughed at the spectacles around them. Flames on torches lit all of the wide open area.

"I should not get involved," she muttered as she looked back to the tent. It was black and it had a painted sign with religious markings all over it, it was far from all the other more childlike attractions, and it was also the only one that was black, "this is not my place," she muttered with annoyance as she marched towards the carnival are again, eyeballing a man who stood by fruits of all kinds in woven baskets. There were apples, oranges, and even peaches! The chilly wind stirred the air and Christine eyeballed them hungrily. How long had it been since she had an apple? How long had it been since the 'Devil's Child' within the tent had one too?

Christine easily stepped by him and then proceeded to steer herself towards the black tent, upon seeing the man with the whip entering it she quickly diverted her track and left the carnival area.

She would return tomorrow.

She felt underneath her cloak discreetly as she walked down the streets, this time with two things, an apple for herself and a peach for the boy.

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**Woo! So that's chapter II. I hope that you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it :) Please let me know what you think. And YES there will be dialogue, so don't worry :) And a huge huge huge thank you for FP33 For her encouraging words and her beta'ing :) **

**Review!**


	3. Dead

**Chapter III**

For the first half of her day Christine hid behind a bakery shop. It seemed to her that it was slightly warmer here than anywhere else. She was completely wrong about the snow, it had been rain that came down that night and into the morning, spoiling her rags and bathing her without permission. Even now it fell, and the grime on her face ran to the corners of her mouth, forcing her to continuously wipe away at it with the equally filthy, and drenched, wool fabric.

Her mind was on the boy from the carnival. He was probably indoors, and something in her envied him. He was probably sleeping, resting in a dry place.

_His life is nothing to envy, _she thought quietly as she angrily moved her hair away from her cheek where it was plastered, _he does not live well. _

The back door of the bakery opened and Christine looked up warily. A man that looked too much like that brute who had beaten the boy bloody at the carnival stepped out. He did not take notice of her at first as he wheeled out a cart covered with a tarp of some sort to keep out the rain. It was as he passed the two trash bags that he stopped and frowned, tuning his head down to the shaking figure that sat huddled in between them.

"What are you doing here, boy? Don't you know that this ain't a place for ya'?" He shook his head at the 'boy's' impertinence, "haven't your little friends told you? The boss'll kick out on the streets!"

"It would appear that I am _already_ on the street," Christine replied. Her voice and look was full of indignation. Her stare became a little annoyed at his presence. She only wanted to rest, was it really such a problem that she decided this was the alleyway to do that in?

The man raised a thick grey eyebrow and nodded in agreement, "aye, aye…" He inspected the 'boy' closer and narrowed his yes, the child had large blue eyes, a hard-set mouth and a grimy complexion. But he could see the delicate curves of that hard mouth, and the soft sweep of 'his' jaw. A small laugh rumbled through him, "You are not a boy, are you?"

Christine did not reply, and that was enough reply to him. The man gave another rumbling laugh, leaning back and sticking his stomach out in the process. His face was turned up towards the rain, cooling off his severely warmed forehead. What was so humorous? Christine wondered.

"Here girl," he walked to the cart and lifted the tarp only slightly, he peeked his head under the cover and Christine's stomach churned. Would he give her a piece? She dared to hope, yet again.

When he popped his head back out he walked towards her with a piece of bread in his meaty hand, Christine's stomach composed a symphony of growling and rumbling as he drew nearer, and she blinked what she suspected to be the rain out of her eyes, she could not be too sure. Hopefully they weren't tears.

"Eat this, and do not return." He handed her the barley bread and she quietly nodded, taking it out of his hand, "if ye' return ya' might find yourself in a bit of a scuffle with the boss. Now get _boy_, and remember to not correct anyone about ya' being a little girl."

Christine stood up in a rush, breathed a small 'thank you' and took off past the carton of bread. She did not look back as she made her way towards another alley, hoping that it was empty so that she might not have to encounter anyone she might regret.

**…**

"Get up!"

This, yet again.

"I said get up boy!"

He followed orders, stalking out of the cage, ignoring the sounds of confusion as he stepped out with his mask, a crudely fashioned thing made of leather. It reeked of blood and sweat. The boy stopped outside of the cage, waiting for further instructions.

"This child was born of sin," the man yelled to the crowd, happy when he heard their disgusted noises, "there is proof for such a claim, ladies and gentlemen! There is proof…"

In one instant he had snatched the mask off of his face and the next he had him caught around the throat, turning him this way and that way, violently pushing him closer to the bars that kept the people out and kept him in… _or is it the other way around?_ He thought as he was forced to cover his face, embarrassed and enraged that he felt such a need to look like them at all.

"Shall we punish the pagan?" The large man roared, the crowd roared back, the boy remained silent. Listening and thinking of all the different ways he might be able to kill this man when the time came. A knife would be too quick. He wanted to drag it out.

He felt the blow of the whip across his hands before he could acknowledge that the man's grip had fallen from the back of his throat. His hands clenched on his face as the back of them burned and blood surged to the surface.

He did his best to disappear. He covered his head, falling to his knees and thought of why it was that he was being whipped with such a ferocity today.

_Ah_, _yes_...

He, the man with the whip, had stepped in yesterday after the show was done and watched the boy with curiosity, as if expecting him to do anything other than try to stay still. The whipped male could not move. Everything stung, his _blood_ was pain.

"You truly are a pathetic creature," the man had laughed drunkenly, tilting his head back and holding onto the bars for support as he eyeballed the captive, "look at me, Skeleton Boy." When he did, the man laughed some more, "that mask does not hide the horrible sight of your face. Have ye' forgotten about that body of yours? You are a skeleton, and you'll always be a skeleton, never alive, and never human. You're a dead boy."

The masked male did not respond. He only stared. His eyes drinking in the sight of the man as he stared at him from where he sat with his arms around his knees. The man took another swig and then began walking towards the side of the cage, closest to the boy. The masked male did not move, he was watching him – anticipating what his next move might be.

"Do you think about your mother sometimes, boy?"

He did, often. He thought about how that woman had betrayed him.

"Would you like to know something?" The man leaned down and smirked at the sight of the boys back which faced him, it was red, streaked with old marks, unhealed scars, and new wounds, "your mother let me inside of her. That was the condition upon which I took you. What a beauty she was," the man laughed as he remembered her, "had a tight spot between her legs. Let me fill her with my seed too, what a sweet lass your mother was," he laughed more when the skeletal boy did not respond. He knew that the boy did not care.

"She could no longer have children boy. She tried with your father but he left her after seeing what came out of her womb, did you know that boy? Of course you did not, you were only five years of age, and she never let you see her. Your company was only that of the horses and the slaves. That is until I came along, and I take good care of ya' don't I boy?" The man rasped and came to a straight stand.

The male in the cage heard what sounded like something being popped open.

The next instant he heard what sounded like water hitting skin and then he felt a horrible burning at his back. He recoiled and hit the other side of the cage as the man laughed horribly at him. It was only then that he realized he had urinated on his back, rage filled him.

He dashed forward on his knees and stuck his hand in between the bars. In on fluid movement he grabbed the neck of the alcohol bottle from where the man had laid it down and slammed it against the ground, spilling it all over.

"You'll pay for that boy!" The man yelled with rage, kicking the cage once and leaving the tent.

That night the skeletal boy had rolled around in the hay, trying to ease the burning at his back, sticking his face into the hay and trying to block out the scent of urine, failing horribly.

"Get up!"

Hauled out of his memory with a hard punch at his stomach he raised his eyes to his abuser, he was scowling down at him, "you are nothing but the spawn of evil. You killed your mother's happiness, you know that don't you boy? Because of this child," he turned his attention to the crowd, "a woman lost all hope. He soiled her womb, and dared to slay her when she so lovingly took him into her home even after what he had done!"

"Devil!" Someone cried.

"Devil! Heathen! Child of Lucifer!" Others joined in. He reached up to feel if his mask was still in place. Yes it was there, but he winced, noticing that one of his fingernails was hanging by a thread.

"God is pleased!" The man informed them, "the devil has not won out tonight."

They clapped and cheered, smiled as they walked out of the tents, they had done God's work, they were absolutely radiant with happiness. The man with the whip followed them out, laughing and shutting the door to the cage. He always made sure to shut it.

The skeleton boy made a weak attempt to crawl to his enclosure. He balanced on his knees, wrapping his arms around his abdomen as he tried to make it towards the inside of his humble- _very humble_ he thought – abode. He stopped a few times to spit out blood, _I am not as dead as you think I am, _he thought as the blood ran down his lips. Then he kept moving.

He clenched his jaw when he collapsed against the back of the cage, shutting his eyes and laying on his bruised side. The pain flared and numbed at the continuous pressure of his slight body weight. He enjoyed this sort of pain, the one that he could feel just beneath the surface of his skin, it was better than focusing on the pain of his fingernail.

There was silence, and this was comforting. It made him feel at peace. There were no shouts of devil, or freak, or bastard. No cries for God to be appeased. No one to remind him of how disgusting he was, even though it was never anything that left his psyche for long.

But then something did disturb his silence. It was a quiet voice, so quiet that he might have missed it had it not been for the squeaky quality of the nervous tone.

"Are you dead?" A small voice asked.

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**...:O You know what button to hit *jumps up and down* I wasn't going to update today but, I couldn't leave you guys hanging haha, so I just left you hanging for another chapter instead :) **


	4. Now You Know Where I Live

**Chapter IV**

The boy raised his eyes to the sound of her voice and she stiffened, clutching the peach and half of the bread tightly, perhaps too tightly, she breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless. He was not dead, this was good. Very good.

She supposed that in truth the boy did have a frightening disposition even from his weakened demeanor. He had a leather mask on his face, and his eyes were darkened by the shadow that the crudely fitting piece cast over the cut out holes on his face.

"You must be hungry," Christine stepped around the round cage and kept circling him, watching him carefully and biting her lip nervously. He stared at her with a glare, clearly not happy about her presence, "I have some food, if you would like it?" She stopped when she was a few feet from his cage.

He looked like he was withering before her. He truly looked like a skeleton. The dark trousers he wore did nothing to hide the emaciated thighs beneath them, and his arms were so thin that she wondered if he would be able to even hold up the peach. He had dark thin hair on his head and it fell messily around his face touching the sides of his jaw and the base at the back of his neck.

"Here," she stuck her arm between two bars and held the peach out to him, wondering if his hand would be able to reach out and take it, she would throw it at him but feared it would bounce off of one of the bars of his cage and roll out of both their reach, "you must reach out for it."

The boy watched her for a long time, as if trying to figure her out. She waited patiently, gazing warily towards the entrance of the cage, "please, you must hurry," she bit her lip, "if that vile man should return I do not imagine that he would be pleased about my presence."

Coming to a slow stand the young boy reached out with a magnificently long arm and stretched his fingers out to her, she tried to not stare at the gash across the front of his hand as he took the peach and quickly yanked his arm back and away from her as if she would take it away. The peach itself looked strange in his pale hands, it was colored brightly and made his skin look more grey then it already did.

"I brought this as well, I hope it is to your liking," she bit her lip nervously and extended a piece of bread. The masked male looked towards her with a snappy quickness as if he were surprised. Again he extended his arm warily and snatched the bread away. In a quick flourish he buried the fruit underneath the hay and turned his back to her. She noticed him peeling back the bottom layer of the mask. He took hold of the bread tightly and bit into it. She looked at his back with fascination.

There were so many scars at his back. And although he wore a shirt it did nothing to cover up the wounds. There were too many rips in the fabric of the clothing. It revealed alabaster white skin and ivory colored scars.

"What is your name?" She asked hesitantly.

He did not respond to her, he only lowered the leather of his mask and turned to face her, pulling his knees near his chest and resting his arms on them so that they hung out in front of him as he perched on the balls of his feet.

"Do you… do you _have_ a name?" She asked warily, perhaps he never had one? When he did not respond she looked towards the exit of the tent nervously. Perhaps this was a mistake. The man with the whip would surely enter the tent again, "perhaps I should go now…"

This seemed to jolt the skeleton boy as he clenched his jaw tightly.

"The man will return soon, I have no doubt of it," she murmured, more to herself as she looked back to the male. Pity filled her as she stared at him. She could not just leave him. It would not be right. It would be horrible and she would be just as bad at the man that beat him. Her father had always told her that those who watched were just as guilty for perpetuating crimes against others when they could have done something to stop it.

"I can return…" she thought out loud, looking at him with a frightened stare as his eyes narrowed at her, "I can bring you food… perhaps tomorrow if you wish."

He stared without speaking. It sent a nervous jolt down the back of her neck that made her twitch very slightly. Was the boy deaf-mute? Yes! That must have been it!

"You poor boy," she murmured as she leaned her forehead against the bars, watching him sadly as he watched her, "what kind of life have you known?"

**…**

He stared at the girl with interest. It took him a few moments to figure out that she was female, but after hearing enough of her voice he knew that she was in fact a She, and not a He as he originally thought.

She had hollow cheeks with distinctly prominent cheekbones. Her jaw was sharp looking and her rounded chin was made more apparent by her obvious malnutrition. She was wrapped in a brown and grey wool cloak, and it dwarfed her already small stature. He imagined that if they were standing side by side the top of her head would touch his shoulder, maybe.

She also had severely thin arms. He had noticed when she reached out towards him. She looked thinner than even he was. He wondered how it was that she walked, how had her legs not snapped?

She had a small slender nose, and a full set of lips with a strange pallor. Her skin looked washed out to him, as if any and all color had been drained out of her. And her eyes… what an exquisite set of eyes. _It is as if though the sky were fixated in them, _he thought when he first took notice. And there was a strange wideness to their shape that captivated him.

She wanted to know his name, and yet he could not bring himself to answer her. He would have told her that he had many names. But it was not of importance, and she had no right to know them if she could not have figured them out by now.

Then she spoke of perhaps returning tomorrow, which made him curious. What exactly did she think she was doing? And why was she taking it upon herself to feed him? _What a fatuous girl, _he sneered mentally as she leaned her head against the bars and questioned what his life was like. _Does she expect an answer?_

"I will be back tomorrow… perhaps I will fetch something better for you to eat… I imagine that soggy bread does not satisfy whatever hunger you might have," she paused for a small moment, "why am I talking aloud? It is not as if you can hear me, you are deaf and mute."

This made his face twitch beneath the mask, _is that what you think? You stupid girl. _

"I must go," she murmured and ducked her gaze from him. She began to quietly walk around the circular cage outside of his enclosure, her footsteps were inaudible, and he suspected by the look of her raggedy appearance that she was living on the street. He also suspected that she had learned to walk so silently for safety reasons.

He watched her walk towards the exit of the tent, taking notice of the fact that her thin brown hair touched the bottom of where he suspected her shoulder blades to be. Before she was fully out of sight she looked back to him and gave him a shy smile, then she was gone.

A smile?

He felt his skin prickle and confusion clouded his thoughts.

Surely it had not been sincere. There was no possible reason as to why it would be sincere. Mothers smiled at their children, husbands smiled at their wives, and people smiled at their friends. No one smiled at strangers, especially not caged and masked ones.

He had done nothing to deserve that small facial gesture. Why had she done that? Was she trying to mock him? Trying to make him feel flattered and humored by the idea that he was worthy of it?

He lay back on the hay after a long moment of confusion and pulled out the peach, biting into it and reveling in the feeling of it bursting inside of his mouth. Juice ran down the corner of his lips and he struggled to contain a sigh of appreciation, but could not resist. He over-chewed the pieces of fruit in his mouth. Trying to savor it as much as possible. He would then take a bite out of the hard bread and savor that, back and forth he switched until both foods were gone and he was left only with hands and the pit of the peach.

He found himself wondering if the girl would truly return to him with more food.

_Of course not, _he sneered to himself, hating that she had raised such stupid thoughts in him, hating _her_ for it, _they are all liars. She does not care. _He_ must have hired her to come and raise my hopes so that then tomorrow I will be upset at her absence. _He rolled onto his side and lowered the bottom half of his mask back over his face, burying the pit of the peach angrily underneath all the hay.

_Stupid girl._

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**Short, but the chapters are actually getting longer (I checked the word count) :) Thank you for the reviews! My original plan was to update every other day but your reviews have been so awesome and I can't help but update everyday. (FP33 You know what I'm talking about!) YOU GUYS ARE MAKING ME GO BACK ON MY SELF-PROMISES! XD. So thank you! and you know what button to hit. *waits impatiently* :) **


	5. Return

**Chapter V**

That night Christine lay on the cold cement with trembles rocking her entire body. It wasn't raining, thankfully, but she found herself overwhelmed with cold whenever a slight breeze stirred the air. It kept her hovering somewhere between reality and dreams.

Tonight the dreams were of her father. His face was disappearing from her memory. She could pick up small details but that was all. And her mother… well, she had never met her mother, but she always imagined her to be the most beautiful woman in the world. That's what her father had described her as, so that was what she imagined.

The next morning Christine woke with sore limbs. She shook and began making her way out of the alleyway, noticing that today the sun decided to peak out from behind the clouds and grace everyone with its presence.

_What would he like to eat? _Christine wondered of the boy. Certainly he would enjoy anything at this point, she thought as she walked by various shops, some people stared her way but they never really looked as much as glimpsed. _Perhaps more bread… and something for those wounds._

Christine spotted a man with loaves of bread in a basket. He was setting down a vase of flowers and arranging them in a nice and presentable fashion that might be inviting to those who walked by. Quietly Christine watched him to see if there was any particular order in which he did things. He would stand, quickly step inside the store for a few seconds and return with more flowers to set outside the store, always with his back to the breads.

Quietly Christine walked towards him, her eyes were on him the entire time. He was a tall thin man with wispy blonde hair and a very tired appearance. He walked back inside the store quickly and she waited for his next interval, slowing down her walk.

It was when he set the pot of plants down and began walking inside that she hurried her step and quickly grabbed a loaf of bread and hid it underneath her cloak.

She began walking away carefully, a small smile planted on her face.

"You! There! Stop!"

Was that towards her? Christine hoped not. She looked back warily, and saw the skinny man pointing at her. One minute she was standing there looking at him nervously and the next she was running with him chasing after her.

Christine's heart raced violently as she clutched the cloak around herself and darted through the streets. She was never a good runner. Her knees were too weak and the cold air always made it harder to breathe.

"Stop him!" Someone shouted behind her, aware that the man chasing her was coming after her because she was a thief.

She spotted a man in front of her ready to grab her for the man but she quickly pretended to go left and just as he reached she spun to the right and ran past him, ignoring a woman who shrieked when Christine shoved by her, almost pushing the woman to the ground.

"Come back here you little thief!"

Christine could hear him right behind her and when she looked back she could see that in about four more strides he would have her within arm's reach. Her knees protested as she veered to the right and turned the corner.

He kept coming after her and as she looked back she could see his arms outstretched towards her, she gave a yelp as he caught her around the cloak, grabbing a fistful of her torn shirt in the process and yanking her backwards, ripping it some more in the process.

"You little bugger!" The man breathed heavily in her face as he clenched his fists into the front of her shirt, shaking her, "you stole from me!"

"I stole nothing!" Christine shouted angrily.

"Give it to me!" He ripped the cloak away from her and tossed it to the ground.

Christine stood in his grip, trembling with nothing in her hands. He blinked, his tired blue eyes suddenly very confused. Christine's heavy breathing lessened as he released her and she fell back against the wall. His eyes narrowed.

"I stole nothing," she repeated with a quiet indignation.

"Forgive me, lad," he murmured, turning quickly and rubbing his eyes, perhaps believing that they were playing tricks on him.

Christine huffed and glared at a young woman who watched the entire scene unfold with shocked eyes. The young brunette grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around herself, stalking away and glancing back just as the man with the wispy hair turned a corner, rubbing the back of his head with embarrassment. Christine kept walking and walking until she reached the front steps of a church. Perhaps she would sit hear all day and stare out at Paris.

She began to sing softly under her breath, rubbing the loaf of bread that was hidden in the large pocket she had sown into the cloak.

**…**

He was beating him again. The skeletal boy took it without making a sound except for the occasional hard breaths that would leave him before he could stop them.

He had been sleeping for most of the day, and when he heard the vicious, 'get up!' he obeyed instantly, not willing to give him a show tonight. He wore his leather mask, only to have it ripped off his face in the middle of the beating.

His wounds from the day before had not healed yet. They opened with the whip that the man brought down on his back over and over. _Perhaps I will die of infection,_ he thought when the crack of the whip sounded through the air, _and then He will die from lack of funds. _

When the ceremony was over he crawled weakly to his cage, clenching his jaw at the pain in his limbs and mostly in his hand. The finger nail had come off, leaving a disgusting wound in its wake. He needed to take care of these wounds before they festered. That would be more intolerable then anything he had suffered before.

He lay on the hay with his mask thrown over his face, he could hear his breathing, and listened only to this in an attempt to calm his body.

"I have returned."

His eyes opened snappily and he sat up in one fluid motion.

There she was, certainly he was imagining her, he realized, because only in his thoughts would someone return to him, well, anyone aside from _Him_.

She stood there with a shy stare, she seemed unsure of what to do with herself from where she stood, so she shifted from side to side awkwardly and nibbled on her bottom lip. The cloak made her hair look shorter than it really was, it also dwarfed her.

He narrowed his eyes at her as she reached out with a loaf of bread in her skinny hand. It was cut in half he noticed. Slowly he approached the edge of his cage, suspicious of her intentions as she trembled and stretched closer towards the space between them.

He reached out, took the bread and retreated, turning his back to her, lifting the bottom half of his mask and biting into it.

It was delicious.

The taste of it almost melted on his tongue and for the longest moment he swore that he had never tasted anything so fresh. Perhaps it was new. It was not as wet as the one from the day before. This one was absolutely perfect. He swallowed carefully and then remembered about her presence. Carefully he set the bread onto his lap as he turned and stared at her.

"I am Christine," she told him, moving her mouth in exaggerated movements. _Perhaps the stupid girl thinks that I will be able to read her lips if I am deaf. _

She noticed a small flicker in his gaze.

"Can you speak at all?" She asked, unsure now as to if he was truly unable to hear and speak, "can you nod at the very least?"

He gave her nothing. He felt that she truly had no right to know anything about him. He would give her nothing.

"This is a waste of time," she muttered to herself, looking down to her hands and playing with her fingers, "the boy does not hear me, and he does not speak, it appears that I have no way of helping him. Dear God, and I still stand here and speak to myself. Have I finally lost all of my wits"

_Help me? _He thought with slight annoyance, _does this girl think to play savior? Do I look pathetic to her? And wits? If you had any you would not be here in the first place._

With annoyance he turned his back to her and stared down at the bread. It was most likely a stupid decision to take this offering. It was done because she felt him to be like a wretched stray animal.

In all his seventeen years of life he had never truly felt so embarrassed. He had not truly given much thought to taking the food she gave him. But when she stretched it out towards him it felt as if though that was all that existed. The food and that offering hand. He must have looked like some sort of starving beast.

Christine stared at his back with a scrutinized gaze. There were lashes across his back, and blood was caked onto his flesh. It hurt her back just look at them, it was as if she could feel them on her own flesh. How did he bear this? She could hardly imagine what he went through. How was he still alive? Certainly he must have endured worse... there were other scars in place too.. some looked worse then others. Biting her lip nervously she reached into the pocket of her cloak.

"Here," her voice came again, "this is for you."

He turned and looked, only to find her stretching out a bottle with a clear liquid inside. There was a strange look plastered across her face. Her eyes were dancing with joy.

"So you _can_ hear me!" She exclaimed, her lips twisting into a strange smile while her brow furrowed with confusion, "it should have been more obvious that you were lying!"

_Perhaps the stupid girl is not as stupid as I thought, _he thought with a dry twist of his mouth.

* * *

**Witty Christine! Grumpy Masked Male! I hope you all enjoyed that chapter :) I plan to update tomorrow again because your reviews make me too excited not to, FP33 was teasing me about me going back on my word to update every other day, oh well haha! Also a lot of you were asking me about the questions that I used to do for paradigm, so I decided to return them :) **

**So questions!:**

**What do you think is in the bottle?**

**Would you handle the situation with the Unnamed Protagonist the way Christine is? Or not so much?**

**What do you think our unnamed protagonist is feeling for her at this moment exactly?**

**:) I'm excited to see what you all think!**


	6. Rewards

**Chapter VI**

"So you can hear me! I knew you were lying!" Christine could hear the excitement in her own voice as she caught him. _His silence is absolutely disarming, it feels as if though… as if though I were speaking to a dead boy. _Quickly she lowered her voice to something calmer and less embarrassing, "why do you not speak? The silence must drive you mad."

The boy gave her a small shrug, hardly noticeable. She probably would not have caught it had it not bit for the slight ripple of his torn and bloody shirt. He understood her, which meant that he could speak the same language.

She wanted to ask him if he was there against his will. She had no doubt of it so she kept silent. Hoping that something would provoke him into speaking. _Is it possible that he fears me? _She thought as she analyzed him carefully, _he seems suspicious in the way he stares at me, and the way he reaches for the food as if I might pull him right out of the bars in some cruel jape. _

"You must take this," she wagged the bottle at him, it was small and it has a clear liquid inside of it, "it is for the wounds on your back. I have had it for a while now, but I suppose you need it more than I do. It will sting," she remembered the first time she had fallen and badly scraped her knee. Her father had poured a small drop onto the cut and it stung worse than he had described, "but you _must_ use it. Otherwise the wounds will fester. I suspect it would be rather uncomfortable after some time has passed."

The boy came to a slow stoop, he stepped forward and stretched his pale arm out to the bottle. Quickly yanking it back and burying it underneath the hay. Curiously Christine analyzed, he appeared to be much taller than her, and although he stooped it was clear to her that he would tower over her should they ever stand aside one another. _He would have to be freed first._

"What is your name?" She asked him quietly. Not surprised when he didn't respond. Instead he sat, cross legged this time with a glare in his black eyes, although she was certain that those were not the color of his eyes, instead it was a trick of the shadows being cast by the horrible mask. His wrists rested on either knee, his hands dangling and his long fingers touching the hay underneath him. He was statuesque. She watched him warily, trying to see if he was breathing. Perhaps he truly was the child of death? _Surely he would not need to breathe like a mortal if that is the case, _she thought and then spoke, "would you like to know my name?"

He did not respond.

"I am Christine Daae." Awkwardly she shifted her weight and looked at his clothing. Brown pants, broken shoes, and a grimy large shirt, "I would be willing to return tomorrow when the sun has fallen, if, of course, they shall allow anyone entry. If this… carnival," she considered it to be more of a torture chamber, "is open then I shall be here. If I am able to get in at least. However I suspect that they will have everything closed, there were whisperings that they are planning to move soon."

The boy did not respond.

"You all travel often, do you not? It appears that every week you are all in a new location," she had read it on the paper, "next you will be travelling to Reims. I have never been to Reims, but I imagine it is beautiful. I have heard of their cathedrals."

He did not move, or speak, hardly breathed, and did not blink. She sighed, frustrated.

"Paris is quite beautiful as well... we have many sights. Sainte Chapelle, Arc de Triomphe and most recently the opera house. I have only glimpsed it. It is quite beautiful."

He considered that for a moment. An opera house... _do the owners have an ear for music? _he wondered. But Christine read his silence as disinterest.

"If I return tomorrow and find that they are in fact closed then I will certainly do my best to bring you something…" Her eyes narrowed very slightly, "I do not know that I will find something to give you, there are times more often than not in which circumstances prevent those like myself from finding things upon which to feast, but I shall do my best." _For the both of us._

Christine began to walk around the cage, very aware of the way his head followed her movements as she approached the curtain of the tent. Peeking her head out slightly she observed for any watcher and then glanced back at him, he was staring at her, silent as it seemed he would always remain.

"Goodnight," she murmured and left. Sneaking out of the carnival area and running into she finally come to a rest in an alleyway behind a store.

**…**

The masked boy stared down at his bread with interest, ripping pieces off and then stuffing them in his mouth. Where was she getting this from? _Does the furtive girl have nothing better to do then return and feed me? _

He continued to eat in silence, and when he was almost completely done with the delicious apple his ears perked up at the sound of bawdy laughter. Instantly he finished the last of the bread, lowered the bottom half of the mask over his face and swallowed down the last of his meal as _He_ entered with company in tow.

"There he is!" Laughed the man, stumbling drunkenly in his direction. He turned his face slightly and saw a woman on his arm. She had red wild hair and a round figure, her eyes glittered mossy green and her teeth were as yellow as urine, "my little skeleton boy."

The man lightly pushed the woman to the ground, she laughed at his rough demeanor as she landed beside the cage. The male inside moved to the other side, remaining as far from them as possible. He knew what was about to happen.

"Look at me boy," the man chuckled darkly, unfastening his belt and standing over the woman, she ran her hands up and down his meaty ankles, grinning up at him, "watch a man, a _real_ man, take a woman. This is as much as you will ever have, you might as well enjoy the show."

The nasty remark made the male inside the tent tense up, he turned his back to them and shut his eyes, willing himself to listen to anything else. To think of anything else.

"He is shy," the woman giggled.

There was music in his head now, surrounding him and encasing him.

"Look at me boy!" The man yelled at him, breaking the trance he was struggling to create, "watch me." He did not, "watch me or you will not touch an instrument! I will see to it." He threatened, "I have been kind to you boy. Lashes on the back are a small price to pay. I give you your blasted instrument, and you listen to me. Do you wish to spend another month without having touched one? No, I did not think so. Now turn around and watch me!"

He was right. To go another month without having touched an instrument was the last thing he wished for. It had been his punishment for his last transgression. Clenching his jaw, he turned to face them.

The man smiled, almost kindly, and moved his pants down his thighs as he lowered himself onto the bawdy woman. He kept his eyes trained on her and entered her in one easy movement, expelling a laugh as the woman yelped beneath him.

The caged male watched, blankly as always. He looked but could not bring himself to truly see. It was easy for him to imagine other things around him. He found his thoughts being dragged to the girl. He wondered what she was doing. Had she made it home safely? Did she even have a home?

It did not appear so. He found himself uncomfortable with the idea.

The man groaned as he finished off. The woman laughed and rocked her large hips upwards at him. The skeletal looking male inside the cage remained impassive.

"That is how you take a woman boy, but I suppose you do not need a lesson. It will never happen for you."

_He says it as if though it is a concept that would injure me, _he thought as the man stood with his piece hanging out, _I am aware of what I will never have. I do not long for such trivial actions, _a sly voice added with a chuckle, _not when we have a hand to take care of primal urges._

He watched the woman stand, lowering her dress and stumbling after the man as he walked out of the round cage and past the tent opening. He returned with a violin in his hand.

The eyes of the masked male narrowed in on it and his fingers tensed. It had been so long since he saw the instrument. The days and nights without it made the days pass with deafening silence. Time moved as if it was a ship on an endless sea, simply drifting and drifting with no destination.

_How long has it been since I heard the beautiful sound of that violin? _He thought back. _Ah, yes… _twenty nine days. Twenty nine horrible days of longing and boredom and horrible silence. His ears itched for something other than this abominable silence!

With a grunt he opened the cage and thrust the thing inside. It landed on the hay, stirring up dust. He shut the opening loudly and glared, "this is the closest you will ever get to the curve of anything. This is the closest you will ever get to being allowed a caress," a laugh rumbled through him, "but of course, the instrument does not have a choice. I am certain that if it did it would disintegrate rather than have your bony hands anywhere near it," he turned and stalked out again.

The words had long ceased to injure him. The masked male reached for the violin desperately, running his eyes over it and inspecting it for damage. He could see scratches but nothing else. He picked up the bow and inspected it as well.

Slowly he raised the instrument, placing it under his chin and holding it gently by neck. It would be another month before he would hold the instrument, he did his best to enjoy every single moment he would have with it for this night.

* * *

**Aww, Masked Protagonist :( **

**Oh well. Don't worry, I think we all know that Christine isn't going to sit idly by... :o**

**Questions:**

**1 - What do you think our masked protagonist did to deserve this punishment of not touching an instrument? **

**2 - What do you think happened to our masked protagonist to get him into such a horrible situation? **

**3 - Do you think it's nice, or worse, that his captor gives him an instrument every now and then?**

**Review! :)**


	7. Empty Pages

**Chapter VII**

Christine moved through the streets with ease. Today the day was clearer than usual. Despite the crispy air the sun warmed her grimy skin nicely. She was walking aimlessly, simply looking at things in stores, trying to decide what she would take today.

As she spotted a man selling fruits her thoughts went back to the boy who she had been visiting, wondering why she was wasting her time feeding him if he would be gone in a matter of days. They were a moving set of people, gypsies. And yet she was risking herself for the boy, _for that very cryptic boy._

_Yet he is hardly a _boy_, _she corrected herself, _and he is much too tall. _She wondered how old he was.

As she kept moving down the street she allowed herself to imagine what his voice would sound like if he bothered to vocalize a thought. She could hear almost anything coming out of his mouth, but she mostly suspected an unusual voice that would comes from his nose. An annoyingly nasally voice.

As Christine walked past the fruit stand she sighed and thumbed the two fruits she had taken so easily.

_Oh papa, if you can hear me please guide me. My thoughts are turning to things they shouldn't, the guilt of leaving him there every night is making it hard to sleep. It is becoming more dangerous as days pass. It is the guilt that is making it harder to return. It is also the guilt that forces me to return. _

Shaking her head at her thoughts she entered a bookstore. Inside it was quiet, it smelled of cinnamon and smoke, she could see that there were not many people there, and so she quietly walked around, looking at the shelves mutely and studying the titles.

_Does he know how to read? _She wondered quietly. The scent of the books were wonderful. Her father had taught her to read, and she took books as often as she could, returning them to the stores when she was done.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Someone asked. Christine turned with a wary glance and saw a male around her age staring back at her. His hair was blonde and his eyes were strangely hazel. He was handsome, and dressed well. His jaw was masculine and rounded, his chin was hard and stubborn, and his eyes were glimmering.

Why was he speaking to her?

She frowned, lowering the pitch of her voice slightly, "no, thank you."

She turned from him and tried to focus on the book titles. But his footsteps were after her as she quietly moved through the narrow aisle of the store. Did he suspect her because of her appearance? She hoped not. Quietly she turned her head and stared at him, "may I help you?"

"Boys like you do not often enter shops like these," he waved a hand to her garb, "do you have the money to afford any of these books?"

Clenching her jaw she shook her head.

He evaluated her one more time and then looked to the cashier, "which book do you like?"

She blinked and took one step back from him, wary, "I do not want any book-

"Oh? Then why have you entered a store that sells literature?" He laughed lightly, it colored his hazel eyes brightly and she blushed. He was very handsome, "which book?"

Christine shook her head, "why do you ask, monsieur?"

He thumbed the spine of a book lazily and smirked, "I find myself bored, now, will you accept my offer or pretend that you do not want to buy something, although, I wonder how you will read. It is not as if though you have proper education by the look of your attire."

Her lips parted and for a moment she thought she would blush, but her coloring left her quickly a and then they widened.

"Pardon me," she murmured and moved past him before he could apologize. This time he did not follow, she glanced back to see if he was watching and grabbed the first book in her reach, tucking it into her cloak. Hurriedly she escaped the book store and took off through the streets.

When she reached the steps of a church she pulled out the book to see what it was that she had grabbed. She frowned down at it and almost slapped herself on the forehead. It was not a book at all, just a leather journal with blank pages.

She slammed it down angrily to the steps beside her and dropped her face into her hands, frustrated.

**…**

He sat in the hay silently. To the common viewer it would appear that he was fine, calm as ever. But if they watched him carefully they would notice the occasional jerk of his fingers. He was bothered, bothered _because_ he was bothered.

_It is the fault of that blasted girl, _he thought with annoyance.

It had been a long boring day. The carnival was closed, and the man who so often made it a mission to beat him bloody had not returned since that morning. He had grabbed the violin and left without a word.

The masked individual had been up, thinking of all the music he had played throughout the night. Despite the fact that he had not used the instrument for a long time his fingers were always familiar with it. It amazed him to no end that even after all these months it was like he had never stopped playing. It was cathartic.

Throughout the day he had used the liquid that the girl had brought him. He had taken off his ratty shirt and then looked for a relatively clean part. He ripped it, poured the substance into the fabric and began reaching behind him and pressing it against his flesh.

It burned, but it did not hurt. Not nearly as bad as what he had been used to. When he was finished he hid the bottle under the hay and lay on his side. Waiting.

As soon as that notion became clear to him he cursed mentally.

He was _waiting_.

The recognition and the annoyance only gave way to impatience. Did she intend to keep him waiting forever? Or perhaps she had come to her senses. _In which case the stupid girl, would prove me wrong again. It would be the best course of action, it would make her far more intelligent than I suspected she could be, _he thought cynically.

It was a long time before he heard shuffling. He sat up and saw the girl crawling from a spot underneath the tent. He raised himself onto his knees and watched her carefully as she wriggled and twisted her way between the tent fabric and the ground.

She finally made it through and came to a stand, a triumphant breath escaping her. She was smeared with dirt now.

"Good evening," she said, walking around the round cage and then stopping as she spied the entrance to the round cage. It would get her closer to him. Quickly she walked around and came to the small metallic gate, carefully she assessed the lock. It required a key. She sighed and walked around until she came to her usual spot on the complete opposite side of the gate and stuck her arm out of the cloak.

"This was all I could get you," she stated quietly, lowering her gaze and pushing out her hand between the bars, she held an apple in her hand. He reached out and snatched it away, turning his back and feasting upon the fruit.

Christine noticed that his wounds were not bleeding or leaking. Instead they were simply red and sore looking, and there was a slight glisten to the flesh of his back, or at least what she could see from the holes and tears in the fabric he wore over the upper half of his body. He had used the medicine.

When he finished he buried the core of the apple and turned to face her, he sat cross legged with his wrists on his knees, statuesque like the day before. Christine licked her dirty lips and nervously ran a hand through her hair. She often hid it underneath the cloak, making it look as if thought it were shoulder length. Christine flinched as some got tangled in her fingers and then fell away from her.

"I brought something else… however, I do not know how much use it may be to you," she pulled out a leather bound journal. He tensed and his eyes locked it on it, she continued, "I do not have any writing implement to give you. But if you do not want it then I will simply return it," she pushed it out towards the space in between them.

Quickly he reached out and grabbed it away from her. In his rushed motion the book tumbled out of his hands. Quickly he reached it from the floor, straining and tugging it towards him by the latch. Finally he grabbed it and buried that into the hay as well.

Christine watched with fascination as he stared down at the place in which he had buried it, pressing the hay down carefully to conceal it. He wanted the journal, that was clear from his reaction. She fought back a smile and spoke again, "with what will you write?"

He did not respond, frustrating her yet again. She crossed her arms, noticing for the first time that this place was cold, and also noticing that he had nothing with which to shield himself. She shuddered and drew the cloak tightly around herself, appreciating the itchy thing a little more now.

"I wish to help you." The words escaped her in a rushed breath. The masked boy stopped pressing down on the hay and looked towards her, his dark eyes unreadable. "I know that you are not here of your own accord… there is no possible explanation as to why someone would want to be here," she shook her head, widening her gaze at the thought that he might be here because he wished it, "there is simply no reason... as to why you would subject yourself to this." Then she stopped.

They both stiffened as they heard sounds from the front of the tent. Quickly she dived towards the floor and began shimmying her way underneath the tent, wincing as her knees scratched against the ground. He looked from her to the entrance of the tent. Would she make it? Christine breathed hard with effort as her knees scratched at the ground.

"Skeleton boy!" She heard the man laugh horribly just as she squeezed her feet through the bottom and took off running, always glancing back to make sure no one was coming after her.

_It appears that it is no longer a question of whether or not I should free you. I must free you._

**...**

Inside the tent the masked male glared at the man for intruding. He came stalking forward towards the cage, drunkenly chuckling.

"In a matter of days we will be travelling to Reims, are you excited?" Naturally he did not get a response, he smiled, "if you try to escape like you did all those months ago you will never get the instrument back. Do you remember how I beat you after I caught you after your pathetic attempt? Well, this time I will hack your ankles off, then you can be the footless skeleton boy, how does that sound?"

The threat made him visibly stiffen, the man grinned, all teeth.

He did remember how he had beat him after that. His head had rang for five days after being caught. It was a stupid attempt made out of desperation. He had kicked the wooden bars of his old cage until he could slip through them and then took off blindly through the night.

It was as he stopped to assess his surroundings that the man came down upon him like a cloak. He hit him over the head until he passed out, and when he woke up his hands and ankles were tied so hard that the rope had begun cutting his flesh. He beat him until his eyes were shut and his skin was purple. Then he had gone a step further and took away the violin and the music books with all of his notes.

Then he burned the books in front of him and only returned the violin for one night each month.

It was not that he felt empty without the sound of the instrument, he felt absolutely mad. Every thought was filled with compositions in mind, and if that was not it then other thoughts eventually lead him to the same conclusion. He distracted himself with thoughts of architecture, and thoughts of literature and language. In the end music returned, torturous and adored all the same. It was his most horrible obsession when it was not there, and his most horrible obsession when it was in his grasp. He could never succeed in taming his desire for it.

Now _she_ was providing him with more tools to fuel the lunacy.

"You will not escape me, will you boy?"

No, he would never escape him, he had resigned to that thought a long time ago. Yet did not vocalize the thought. The man did not need an answer. He gave him another chuckle and left him alone, extinguishing all the lights as well.

He lay in the darkness and wondered if the girl named Christine had found a safe harbor for the night. His fingers twitched with anticipation at the prospects of tomorrow and he felt at the journal beneath the hay with his hands, running his fingers over the leather.

He was excited about tomorrow's show. It was a feeling that he had not felt for a long time, and the girl was at fault for that. He was not certain that he disliked this.

Tomorrow there would most certainly be a show.

* * *

**:o The next few chapter are probably my favorite. I think you guys will enjoy them as well :) Also! I suggest you go read the story No Coincidences by Kumon5. Very intriguing read :) **

**Review! Thank you to FP33! And I will be responding to all of your reviews today :) **

**Questions: **

**1 - Who do you think Christine was talking to? ;) And why did he approach her?**

**2- What do you think our masked protagonist is going to be doing with this journal? **

**3 - What do you think he is planning?**


	8. Not Another Night

**Chapter VIII**

He sat patiently as people filtered inside the tent. Upon laying eyes on him and his mask women began their usual practice of wailing and fainting. _Pathetic creatures, all of them, _he generalized and then corrected himself, _with perhaps the exception of the foolish girl, Christine. _She had not shuddered at him, and if she did she hid it well.

When he spotted the man with the whip coming towards him he tried to not smile under the mask as he came to a stand before the man ordered him to. Instantly the man frowned, annoyed. _Good,_ he thought as he walked forward towards the front of the cage without waiting for instruction, _I need you to make me bleed tonight you pitiable creature._

The cage door opened and the man pulled him out and sent him crashing to the floor.

"Here kneels Satan's spawn!" He hollered out as behind him the mask boy came to a stand, he had not taken notice yet, "his mother was a filthy whore! She worshipped the devil and he filled her womb with his demonic seed, giving life to this!" He turned with a flourish, pointing to the masked individual. Upon seeing that he was standing he clenched his jaw with anger, "shall I punish the filthy boy?"

In one moment he snatched the leather mask off of his face. They all cried out for appeasement for the sin of looking that way.

The second the man raised his arm, with the whip in hand, the mask boy stepped aside, dodging it easily. The crowd murmured with surprise as the man glared at him.

_Yes, get angry. _

He made a move to whip him again and he was shocked once again as the male sidestepped the whip. He tried again and again and the crowd began to laugh. He reddened viciously and the masked male noticed.

_Perfect_.

This time he let the whip fall on him, but he himself did not wince or cower. It only enraged the man further and he started cursing and spitting as he brought the whip down over, and over, again and again with more ferocity each time. The harsh material was wearing away as it cut into the pale skin of his victim.

"Satanic spawn!" He exploded as he brought him down to his knees and lashed out at his back, "ungrateful! Worthless! Filth!"

The male at the end of the whip began to tremble, he was broken and reaching to his mask weakly, putting it back on his face. The man with the whip gave a triumphant grin to the crowd, but as the male began to tremble more it became very clear that he was not crying.

He was chuckling, holding back the noise but just barely. It was obvious in the way he raised his eyes to the man. There were no tears behind the mask, and the whites of his eyes were not reddened. They were alive with humor.

"Bastard!" He brought the whip down again, hitting him in the shoulder and then grabbing his shirt and pulling it off of his body in one movement.

_Yes, yes, _the masked male thought as the whip cut into his flesh. He could feel the blood running down his sides and his back. Down his arms and at the top of his shoulder. His body was not enjoying it as much as his mind was. And his knees gave out, and then his consciousness. He remembered falling to the ground and feeling the dull blow of the whip at his back.

"God will be pleased," the man huffed, out of breath and angry. The crowd clapped in agreement and he led them out of the tent, glancing back at the demonic boy who lay on his chest not moving.

**…**

It was only a matter of seconds before he regained consciousness. He heard her voice, it was a harsh whisper.

"Dear God, what have they done to you?" She was whispering from far away, "please stand up. Stand up!"

He opened his eyes slowly. He was on his chest, and from where he lay he could see the girl, Christine, with her hands on the bars, her wide eyes were… worried? He was certain he was imagining it, and with that in mind he pulled himself up onto his knees and reached around to touch his back. He could feel all the blood there. He released a grateful breath and crawled to the cage.

His back was on fire, and his head was pounding. He realized only when he reached the inside of the cage that she had been speaking.

"…vicious! How can you not fight back? That man is a monster. No one deserves such a fate, dear God I cannot stand this for another night."

He looked to her skeptically. Did she not intend to return?

Her wide eyes darted around, "there must be a way to free you."

_Has she lost her mind? This girl is just as stupid as I thought, _he removed his eyes from her and uncovered the leather bound journal.

"What are you doing?" She asked with curiosity.

Ignoring her he opened the journal and then searched through the hay. She did not bother to repeat her question, perhaps understanding, _finally, _he thought, that he would not answer her. He finally pulled out on thin piece of hay and reached around to his back, quickly coating the end of it in his running blood. He lowered the tip of the hay to the page and began to scribble down notes.

**…**

Christine's eyes widened as he wrote with his back to her. His back was coated in blood. It was one of the most horrendous things she had ever seen. And she could smell it rolling off of him in waves. He smelled like rust and copper. Again the mask boy reached behind him, using the piece of straw as a writing implement.

_Had he planned to use his blood as ink? _She wondered as she lowered herself carefully down to her knees, silent. He seemed enthralled in what he was doing, locked into his own world. She took the time to notice him now that he wore no shirt.

He was horribly thin. He had a narrow waist and his shoulder blades pushed out against his skin, it seemed to cling to him, challenging the youth of his skin. Despite the countless scars the flesh itself was smooth. And the knobs of his spine popped out, especially near the base of his neck. When he had first turned his body towards her she had flinched. His arms were thin, long appendages. The pants he wore clung to his horribly prominent hip bones, it caused his stomach to sink below the form of them. His rib cage was perfectly defined against his flesh. The shadows of his ribs made it more grotesque, and his collarbones frightened Christine. Is that what she looked like? She could not imagine that that was the case. She could see now why the man called him 'skeleton boy'. She had also noted that he had dark hairs below his belly button - travelling down past the waist band of his pants. _He is most certainly not a 'boy'._

He wrote and wrote, his eyes and hand moved furiously along the page and she hugged her thin legs to herself, resting her temple against her knees.

_Would you be proud of me papa? That I am helping someone in need? Or would you disagree with my actions, after all I am putting myself in a constant danger, s_he wondered quietly, blinking away the threat of tears. She did not wish to interrupt him. Quietly she murmured that she would return the next night and slipped out of the tent quietly, running until she found an alleyway. There she rested for the rest of the night, hoping that her father was indeed pleased.

**…**

In the tent he wrote and wrote until he heard the sound of footsteps. Quickly he buried the leather journal and looked towards Christine. Frowning when he realized she was not there.

_Why did she not say anything? _He thought with annoyance, _is she going to make a habit of disappearing without a word? _He stopped his thoughts quickly, _I speak as if though I expect her to return. _He knew that he honestly did expect her to return and have one of her one sided conversations… with him.

"You tried to make a fool out of me."

The voice made him raise his head. He stood there with a smirk on his face.

"Beat you bloody, didn't I boy?" He received no answer, "you try that again and I will break your legs."

He turned and left the skeletal male to himself in the dark. He pulled out the journal and opened the page. He continued writing, his lips twitched with every scratch of the page. Every single one made him want to smile even the slightest bit.

At the top of the page he wrote the title of the composition, _Don Juan Triumphant. _

* * *

**A short chapter, but I think the next one will ... to say the least, please you quite a bit. **

**So tell me, did you see him using his blood as the ink for his compositions? :) **


	9. Push

Chapter IX

Christine sat at the steps of the church, fidgeting with her hands and eyeballing the people who passed by with mild intensity. There was a storm brewing in her mind, one like she had not felt since her father had died. A storm that was churning her stomach with its violence.

She was planning to break him out. She knew that it was a stupid thing, after all, she did not know anything about him. Not his name, or his age, she did not even know what his voice sounded like, and she was almost certain that his eyes were not as dark as the shadows made them out to be.

He was so silent, and also very suspicious of her. What if she released him and he simply ran away?

_Why would I not want that? _ Christine thought about it for a long moment, realizing that she truly did want to know something about the male. Even if it was just the sound of his voice. It would be something that would make him more tangible to her mind, and not just a figure that sat in a cage always out of her reach.

But how would she do it?

Christine sat there pensively, thinking over her plan. The gate needed a key, and there was no doubt in her mind that the man who beat him was the one who carried it. She would need to get near to him and steal it, but first she would have to figure out where it was that he kept the key. If it was in his pant pocket that would be nearly impossible to take.

_No, _absolutely_ impossible, _she thought.

**…**

He sat silently writing. He had filled about forty six pages with small notes. His blood had not soaked through the pages. The girl, Christine, had picked out a good journal, although he suspected it was not entirely on purpose.

The blood had started to dry on his flesh, when he realized this he had quickly decided that he could not stop writing. Using tough pieces of hay he dug it into the wounds, forcing them open, then he continued to write.

Drunken laughter rang from outside. He looked up with surprise, it must have been sometime in the late afternoon… perhaps six or so. What was the man doing returning now?

Quickly he shut the journal and thrust it under the hay just as the man popped his head into the tent, his eyes intent on the boy, a smile played at his lips, "skeleton boy!" He unlocked the gate and began walking towards the cage, "how are you feeling this fine afternoon?"

Did he expect an answer? The male remained silent with his knees drawn near his chest, his arms dangling off of them. His fingers were slightly interlaced as he watched the man open the cage door and begin a slow walk inside of the cage, stooped over.

_It would be so easy, _the masked male thought, a_ll I would have to do is choke him. But I cannot do that, they would come in search of him and know that I did it. I would not be given the opportunity to run. _

"Turn around boy," the man stated in a bored fashion as he held onto one of the bars. Silently the masked boy turned and gave him his back. There was silence for a long moment. It appeared that he was horrified at what he saw because he did not speak. A few moments passed, and then the round man sniffed once, "next time you dare mock me the way you did last night your punishment will be much more severe, do you understand me boy?"

There was no response, but he did not need one. He smirked and stalked out, shutting the cage door and then shutting the gate before stepping outside of the tent.

**…**

Christine walked aimlessly around the carnival area. Searching for the man who had beat the caged male so horribly. She often spotted men who looked like him but upon further inspection none were him. She was almost about to give up on the idea of finding him when she spotted him walking into a small grey tent. The sun had started to fall and she knew that tonight there would be no show. It was the perfect night for her and the masked male to make an escape… or for _him_ to make an escape. She did not have to be here. _And yet it feels as if though I am also trapped. _

Quickly she approached the tent, wary of anyone that might look her way. But due to the fact that there would be no shows this night it seemed that there were very few people out. And those who were out kept to themselves. She walked by them as inconspicuously as she could, lowering her head so that they might not spot her unfamiliar face.

When she approached the grey tent she peeked inside through the opening on the front.

There was a man sitting on a leather chair. It was raggedy and the filling popped out through the seams. There was also a single candle lit and illuminated the place dimly. She could see a wall of different objects, some sharp, some dull, but all deadly in appearance. There was also a large wooden table.

The man himself had his back turned to her and she quickly looked around for keys. She saw none and pulled her head out of the tent.

There had to be a better way to go about this!

Christine walked around aimlessly for a long time, wondering if she dared go into the black tent when there were still so many people out. But she dared not, if she was going to enter she knew that it would have to be by the back.

Stealthily she moved towards the back of the tent and lowered herself to the ground, she stuck her face between the tent and the floor and began to shimmy her way through. She spotted the male with his back to her, engrossed in what she suspected was writing.

She managed to get her shoulders through, wriggling quietly. Then, in one very quick movement she found herself being dragged back by the ankles.

A hand came down on her mouth as she made a move to scream and found herself looking up at two dark eyes, a thin, gaunt man lifted her up to her feet as she trembled violently in his grasp. One of his hands were wound in her hair and the other clapped over her mouth. His hand smelled musky and it horrified her as she could imagine all the different places it had been. She began to gag.

"Ye've been sneakin' in to see the demon, aye?" He laughed and began removing her away from the tent as she pulled in protest, "you're going to see the leader, boy. I hope you have little more respect than this!"

Christine's heart drummed violently in her chest. Her hands wrapped around the man's wrist as she struggled violently against him. She tried to bite but his grip was so tightly around her mouth that she could hardly move her jaw. It was like a lock around her face.

He pulled her as she struggled against him towards the small grey tent. Her eyes widened and she even tried to shake her head at him, pleading with him. People watched on with curiously, and the closer they drew to the tent the harder she fought.

Without remorse he shoved her violently through the tent. She tumbled to the ground and quickly scrambled up and made a mad dash out but he grabbed her around the arm and yanked her back in.

"Release me!" She yelled angrily.

"Silence you stupid boy!" The man gave her a shake and she clenched her teeth. She would keep her composure.

"What is the meaning of all this noise?" A voice came from the horrible looking chair she had spied earlier in the day. The man in it stood and turned. His dark and greying shoulder length hair made Christine back up. He looked like everything a villain should be. His teeth were dirtier than even her own, and his clothing looked like it was stained with blood, and she could guess whose.

"I found this one tryin' to sneak into the demon's tent," her captor explain, ignoring her as she gave a tug to free her arm, "also spied him looking around rather curiously earlier this morn'."

The man observed her with an interested gaze. He stepped forward, towering over her.

"Is it true, boy?"

Christine did not know what to say. Certainly he would believe the man despite what she might try to say, deepening her voice she nodded, "yes. But I was only curious, sir, I swear it."

"I remember this one," a new voice came, she looked behind her curiously and blinked. The man who had been handing out the sheets of paper stood there, his eyes were just as black and shiny as she remembered, and his gold and red pants seemed more jarring now, "the lad wanted to come see the show. Didn't think he had the bollocks to sneak in, looks more like a girl than a boy," he laughed at her. The man with the bloody clothing joined in and her captor chuckled. "Let the boy go Javert," the black eyed man suggested.

"Why should I let him go? What he did is try to sneak into a show, stealing my money." _Javert _answered.

"The boy did not get to see anything, did you boy?"

Christine shook her head furiously, looking to Javert even though it was the man with the red and gold pants who had spoken to her, "no sir, I saw nothing."

"Good," Javert glared, "had you seen something I might have to kill ye' for robbing me of potential opportunities to make money. You must pay like everyone else." He stepped forward and pointed his finger at her stomach. He jabbed it hard against her empty belly and spoke in her face, his breath smelled rank, and she turned her face away, ignoring the pain in her stomach as he jabbed his finger deeply against her flesh, twisting and turning it, she did not cry out, "if I catch you trying to sneak into my show I will slice your belly open and strangle you with your own intestines. Are we understood?"

Christine gave a frantic nod.

"Get him out of my sight." Javert ordered.

Christine was hauled out and dragged to the exit of the carnival area. The captor shoved her violently to the ground. As her hip collided with a rock on the ground she bit back a yelp. The man laughed and walked away from her as she grabbed her hip helplessly and dragged herself to a corner on one hand. She clutched her hip desperately and shivered. With frustration she realized that her cloak had fallen from her shoulders somewhere.

That was the cloak her father had given her. The realization that it was now lost somewhere in there made her heart contract wildly.

Weakly she rose to her feet, wincing and carefully lifting the tail of her father's shirt. Her hip was already swelling.

Shakily she let down the shirt and noticed a few people raising a brow in her direction. Ignoring them with a glare she looked back towards the carnival where the black tent stood.

She would get back in there. Now it was personal.

* * *

**O_O uh.. oh. **

**So thank you to FP33 for always being there when I need an editor, and I'm so sorry for the longer than usual wait :) If there are errors in this chapter forgive me :) and also thank you to those of you who have reviewed :) You're all so freakin' awesome! **

**Now lovelies tell me:**

**-What do you think that Christine is going to do exactly?**

**-Did you expect her to get caught? Nice little twist? Or no O_O **

**:) Tell me what you think, Im always eager to hear from you!**


	10. Pull

**Chapter X**

Christine waited until nightfall. Fidgeting with the ends of her father's shirt nervously. She stood just outside of the carnival area near a fence, watching for the man who had threatened her, Javert. It would be around this time that the boy would have gotten beaten, but since there was no show tonight he was probably writing like usual.

Christine watched with impatience for the man but she could see him nowhere. All she could hear was the rowdy sounds of gypsies getting drunk. There were all clamored inside of a lit tent. From where she stood she could see their forms moving from within.

_He must be there, _she reasoned as a couple came stumbling out and then made their way to a tent, _where else would he be? _

And so she waited and waited, wondering if she was wasting her time. But night had fallen, and it was the perfect chance to free the boy and perhaps rob the man of things that might be of use to her. Once she might have had pity to steal all that the man had accumulated, but she knew how it was that he had gotten it. She felt no sympathy for him.

It was a few more minutes after this thought that she noticed him stumbling out. In the dark his face was obscure but his laughter, raspy and choked, signaled to her that this was in fact him. He was walking alone, singing loudly and moving towards his tent, silently, like a predator stalking prey Christine followed.

She waited for him to enter his tent, and when he did she listened to him fidgeting. She could hear him curse as he lost his balance occasionally and hit himself. It took all of her power to be patient.

In the end it paid off. She had been staring up at the moon, it was peering down at her just as she stared at it, and the stars were putting on a light show that the sun would be envious of. Then, inside the tent she heard snoring.

Christine looked around for any watchers and quickly snuck into the tent through the bottom. He continued to snore and to her great relief he had left a candle on. It was quite a dangerous thing she knew, _heaven forbid that it should tip over and incinerate you… or perhaps not? _The thought made her shudder. She did not wish death on anyone, but this man was challenging her morality to a new extreme.

He was sitting on his leather chair, slobbering as he slept. He rested his head back on the back of it. Occasionally his fingers twitched.

Christine looked around with interest at all the things around her. There were many things that caught her eye, especially the monkey figurine. But she dared not get distracted less this man should wake up. Quickly she eyeballed the man and stepped forward until she was directly in front of him. If he opened his eyes she would be caught and within perfect reach.

Her heart drummed furiously as she stared at him, where were the keys?

She looked him over carefully, her breath was becoming ragged with nerves.

She spotted the key hanging out of his pocket. Her stomach tightened, glimpsing up at him Christine reached forward tentatively. She would pull the key out. But what if he felt it? What if it fell out of her hand and clattered to the ground?

Christine bit her lip tightly and stilled her loud breathing. Carefully she reached forward and took the ring around her finger. The man did not stir.

Hooking her thumb and index finger into the ring she gently tugged it. Watching the keys, and then him, the keys, the entrance of the tent, and then back to him. _Dear God I can hardly breathe._

Christine gave another gentle tug, hoping that this would be the one needed to release the keys from their confinement. It was just as she gave it that he spoke.

"Tricky little bugger aren't ya' boy?"

**…**

He had written into the night again. The notebook was almost completely filled now. It was a worrisome thing, to know that very soon he would have no space. But at least these notes had to come down into the actual paper, otherwise it would be trapped in his head for all eternity.

He looked up for a moment and noticed that the sunlight was not piercing through the bottom flaps of the tent. Usually he could glimpse a bit of the sunlight but now there was nothing there. The sun had fallen. How many hours had passed?

_And where is that girl? _

He turned and watched the side of the tent through which she had come in last time and continued to write. Ever so often when he heard a shuffle he would look up, but she never crawled through.

_Has something happened to the girl? _The thought made him frown with discomfort. He sincerely felt that if she had done something stupid he would not find himself alright with the idea of the girl being hurt for her stupidity. This bothered him even more.

Eventually he got tired of waiting. His eyes narrowed as he lay down.

She was just like he suspected. A liar, a fearful ant. It was foolish of him to be as annoyed as he was. He had allowed himself to expect things of her when the only thing that he should have had expected was _this_. That she would not come. _It is of no consequence, _he reminded himself angrily, _and she matters very little. The girl could die and it would make no difference in my life._

Rolling onto his side he glared at the spot where he could smell the rotting apple core and peach pit. It was as if though the scent were teasing him, reminding him of all the thing he would not have anymore.

He had certainly not looked forward to her appearance every night. But something in him stirred at the loss of a face that did not look at him with disgust.

Suddenly a shuffling came from the outside of the tent. He ignored it, thinking it was just a passer. But when he heard her familiar sounds of frustration he rolled up onto his knees (a bit too quickly for his liking) and stared at her, almost expectantly.

Christine quickly shimmied into the tent and came to a stand. Her eyes found him instantly as she huffed with a hard breath. "You must forgive me, I did not have the opportunity to bring you food." She looked jittery as she licked her lips quickly, and took a step forward, then she held up her hand, "I brought something better."

In her grasp keys shined back at him. He came to a slow and very comprehensive stand as she released a sly smile.

* * *

**So. :O what do you all think? :) I certainly hope you'll forgive the shortness of the chapter, but quality - not quantity :) Next chapter is all ready for tomorrow night, so tell me :O Are you excited to see what will happen?!**


	11. The Fall

**Chapter XI**

He stared at her, speechless. Both involuntarily and voluntarily. Even if he made a habit of talking he felt that he would have had nothing to say. She was standing there, smiling at him with a flash in her eye. It made him more baffled then he already was.

"I entered Javert's tent," she explained as she quickly made her way around the tent. He noticed for the first time that she was not wearing that horrible rag on her shoulders. She was petite, thin and wore baggy clothing not fit for her gender. The grimy shirt was so big on her that she had to shake her arm out to have the collar go back to its rightful place, even though it continued to sag off of her.

She continued speaking as he turned and followed her with his eyes, "the man was drunk. He appeared to be sleeping and I went into his tent, grabbed his keys, but then he began to speak," she released a shaky laugh as he clutched the bars tightly, swallowing to contain the bubbling energy in his system, "I thought he was awake. He appeared to be having a dream and nothing more." That was not entirely true, she knew. He had begun rambling in his sleep, very violent things in nature. Things about the masked male. Javert had mumbled off about wanting the 'boy' dead, and wanting to sell him into slavery in Persia. It became clear to her that he was the subject of the man's dream when he referred to him as Satan's child.

Christine pushed one of the keys into the door, searching for the right one. The individual within the cage watched with something akin to tension. His knuckles were turning whiter than they already were as she continued to try the keys. Then finally they heard a click.

The gate swung open and Christine ran excitedly towards him. He stepped back, controlling his breathing.

Could this be it? Could this truly be it? This insignificant girl would free him and his fate would be his own? In a city he had no doubt that hiding from Javert would be easy. And night had fallen, he would be better this time.

He watched her trying all the keys again. Her blue eyes were intensely focused on her task. The more keys she tried the higher her excitement built, it meant they were getting closer to the right one. It was obvious in the way her eyes widened and her breath grew more rapid. She tried her best to relax herself.

They heard a small click and Christine released a hard breath and pulled the door open. The male watched her curiously, his eyes had widened a bit as if though he could not understand what she had just done.

Quickly he turned and went to the back of the cage as Christine watched him inquisitively. He dug in the hay and pulled out the journal and the small bottle she had given him for his wounds. Resisting a smile Christine leaned against the gate as he came towards her.

As he was stepping out Christine left the keys in the door and began leading him silently out through the first gate. He watched her for a moment, and then took the keys before following her as she waited at the entrance.

_Christine, Christine, what a stupid bravery you have, _he acknowledged as a silent thank you.

As he kept his eyes trained on her he noticed a small movement behind her. For a moment he thought it was a trick of his eyes but when she shrieked he knew he was wrong.

Meaty hands pulled apart the tent entrance and grabbed her. Christine instantly began fighting back as Javert pulled her off of her feet and violently pulled her head back by the root of her hair. She yelped in pain as her neck protested and the masked male stood there, tense and frozen with his fingers twitching on the journal.

"I knew you were up to something," the man laughed at him as the petite girl struggled uselessly against his larger frame. Christine eventually gave up and just stared down towards the masked male with fear in her eyes. She had fought so hard to free him! "Did you really think you would pull a fast one on me boy?" he received no response and as Christine struggled once more the man suddenly released a hard breath, "But _you're_ not a boy are you?" He whirled her around and glared down at her. He could see the small breasts through the material of her grimy shirt, and the scream had been much too high to be that of a male. And now that he really looked he could even see the too feminine curve of her lips. A leery grin made its way onto his face, "what a pretty little thing you are," he traced the outline of her cheeks gently. Christine trembled violently.

From where he stood the male was shaking with rage.

He wanted to kill him.

He made a move to step forward but the man sent him a warning glare that made him stop. The threat was clear in both of their eyes, but only one of them had the ability to hurt someone quicker, and it was Javert. He turned his eyes down to Christine again and smirked at the small girl, "you could stay. He can go. I wouldn't mind having a little slave girl, I'm sure there are many men who would want to have a young thing like you. I could charge for you. Perhaps fatten you up a little, what do you think?"

He looked up at the masked male then, "do you agree, ugly boy?"

The male did not respond.

"Your freedom for her body. Be quick about it, I do not mean to stand here all night." Javert's voice was deadly.

A tense moment passed. Christine's heart clenched and her throat tightened. Her scalp burned from the way the man had pulled her hair… surely the man would not betray her… _not after all I have done…_but she was wrong.

The male gave one nod in agreement. It was like a punch to her stomach, she could practically hear Javert's lips pulling against his slick gums as a grin broke out onto his mouth. The masked one began walking over to them, his eyes remained passive. Christine swallowed back a sound of despair. _I saved you…_

"I have never had a small thing like you," the man chuckled turning back to her and tracing down her face with the tip of his finger until he reached her neck, it felt like ice, _"Je vais te baiser."_

"You are disgusting!" She spit angrily only to have him chuckle. His gaze dipped lower. She could see the intention in his eyes.

Jerking her knee up she hit him right between the legs. He grunted and doubled over. Christine scrambled away from him with a hard breath and made a move to dash away but he took her by the shirt and yanked her furiously back. But it was already too late for that.

The masked figure grabbed him by his hair and yanked wrathfully. Christine gave a wild yelp as the man rolled over to face his attacker.

Taking the keys in his long fingers the masked man lifted his hand and let it fall.

The key stabbed right into his right eyelid. The man squealed with horror as it was twisted over and over. He did not know whether to grab at the attacker or at his face so he did everything, flailing his arms wildly.

The attacker removed the key and brought it down again with just as much ferocity into his cheek, piercing it easily and then pulling up, tearing at the thick skin in a horrible shaking motion as if he were cutting through tough meat. The blood was soaking his vision. He could not be bucked off. And even as the man stared up at him through his one good eye, he could not appeal to his attacker's humanity. The masked man would not let him. He saw only an animal to be butchered, an animal with no name. An animal that had been titled only by the whip he carried and the laugh that followed every crack of the leather bound weapon.

He brought the key down again into his face, piercing the skin. Again and again he drove it into his face until the man was on the verge of passing out. He dropped the keys and wrapped his hands around his throat, savagely squeezing. The damaged eyelid flickered uselessly as the sound of blood rushed through his ears. All he wanted to do was kill, it was the only thing that mattered.

As the artery's bulged under his fingers he could hear what sounded like commotion from the outside of the tent. But that too mattered very little. It appeared to him that the engorging neck was trying to push his hands off, as if by expanding in size they might be able to break his hold. _Never again, never again! _He chanted over and over as the man struggled to make sounds.

"No, stop it!" Christine continued to plead with him as she pulled at her thin hair. He would not listen to her. She could hear the sounds of people approaching the tent, "please! Listen to me!"

But he would not! He continued to asphyxiate the man and press all of his body weight down on him by leaning forward and lifting his feet off of the ground, balancing only on his hands and knees. The man was already passed out but he would not stop!

In the heat of the moment Christine dared to grab him arm. He jerked and then in the next moment grabbed her arm and glared up at her as she shuddered.

His eyes were amber, not black, like she had imagined. But almost yellow. The one on the right was surrounded with thick black lashes and the one on the left was slightly lighter in color tone. She breathed heavily as he glared up at her, one hand still around the throat of the man under him. His fingers were like daggers in her thin wrist. His uncut nails dug into her skin.

But what caught her attention the most was the size of his pupils. They were blown up in his eyes, leaving only rims of amber.

"We must go or you will suffer a fate similar or worse than what I have just freed you of." Her words were rushed out, "we must go."

He did not respond in any way. His eyes went back down to the man beneath him and he listened.

Yes, he could hear them. People outside talking about the screaming they had heard from his tent. He came to a sharp stand and grabbed the journal. Christine quickly went around the round cage as he stood over the body of the man.

"They will be on you!" She exclaimed harshly, "will you come with me? If not then goodbye," she did not wait for a response. Quickly she turned and went around to where she had entered from. She lowered herself to the ground and began the task of crawling out.

The male within the tent took the bottle off of the floor silently. He stood over the man and then lifted the bottom of his mask, spitting on him and then forcing his limbs to walk away. He reached the spot where he could see the girl crawling. Her bare feet were the only thing sticking out of the tent.

Silently he lowered himself and did as she, following her out into the world he had been deprived of for so long. Inside people screamed in horror at the body.

_Who is the corpse now? _The masked male thought with ghost smile.

* * *

O_O Did I just stop there? Yes I did.

Review? :)

What do you think Christine's is going to be like in the next chapter? :)


	12. Selfish Monster

**Chapter XII**

Christine moved quickly through the empty street of Paris. Occasionally glancing behind her to see if he was there. Every time he was. He seemed transfixed by the air, by the street and the stars and the moon. He kept turning his head this way and that, always sticking to the shadows. Observing without being a part of it.

He did not know it but she was absolutely furious. She felt betrayed, and a bit hurt despite understanding that they were nothing to one another. And yet she had expected more for her kind deed. Anger coursed through her as she turned a corner and went into the alleyway in which she had been sleeping in for so long. She glanced again and found him following her there too. Angrily she stood her ground as he came towards her.

Each step that brought him closer made her more annoyed. He was so tall. It was sort of imposing on her. And his eyes were once again darkened by the shadows of the night and his mask. Finally he came to a quiet stop and observed her neutrally.

"You would let him take me as a slave?" her voice was hard and forced, quiet as she struggled to not yell, "_I_ who saved you from a fate that I believed you could not have possibly deserved._ I_ who fed _you_ and gave you that very journal which you clutch with such tenacity. That was all _my_ doing and _you_ would let him take me as a _slave_ for your freedom? Are you so selfish?"

Naturally he didn't respond, but his fingers flexed over the bottle and he shifted his weight very slightly.

"Where do you imagine that I will take you?" Her eyes hardened, "I am just as poor as you are. I do not have a home, I have given you your freedom and you may do with it whatever you wish. It is of no concern to me. Following me will not get you anywhere but where you stand right now. There is nothing for me, you may go off and make a life for yourself now, one that hopefully does not consist of a series of avenge killings." She shuddered as she remembered the way he had savagely choked the man, the way he had stabbed his eyelid and pierced right through to the eye… it made her stomach churn. Wrapping an arm around midsection she lowered her gaze, trying to keep from vomiting on her bare feet.

The male did not respond to her but narrowed his eyes. He realized that her skin had prickled against the cold, the shirt she wore was billowing in the slight breeze.

Wordlessly Christine turned her back on him, expecting that he would walk off and go make his life. Her annoyance was making her more tired. She walked along the wall and then slumped down beside a bag of trash. When she looked up she found him standing where she had left him. His black hair stirred freely. He was not moving.

Pity stirred in her chest but she quickly locked her lips firmly together before she could say something that would invite him nearer.

He, however, did not need an invitation. The masked male came forward quietly, and she imagined it was almost hesitantly. He lowered himself down beside her silently, of course, and stretched his legs out before him as she pressed hers closer to her chest.

_It would be best that I go, _he thought quietly and watched the stars. How long had it been since he saw such a beautiful sight? _ I could go to a country side and live there. Perhaps build a home away from people. I do not belong in a city. But the girl… _the thought of leaving her made him feel regretful. She sincerely believed that he would have allowed that pervert of a man to take her? _Of course she does, she thinks I am a selfish monster. _He replayed how he imagined the scene to go. He had said yes with intention of getting near enough to the man with the keys in hand to kill him. But then she had gone and begun fighting.

_And what of tomorrow? What will I do when the sun rises? I will not allow these people to gawk at me. That life is over. At some point I will also have to speak to her. _He narrowed his eyes, it appeared he had unconsciously made his decision to stay.

The wind stirred once more and Christine ducked her forehead into her throbbing knees. The cold was making her temples hurt. She should have been used to it by now but the fact that she did not have her blanket made things worse.

Christine spoke with a chatter, "we cannot stay here. In the morning people will notice you."

His eyelids contracted slightly. The girl was thoughtful.

"We must go elsewhere. Indoors would be best. We do not have anything with which to cover ourselves. It will be a difficult night and tomorrow I must find a way to gather food," she rose to her feet, "for the both of us."

She walked away from him without waiting but knew he was following. Christine glanced behind her occasionally and found him easily keeping in step, always five steps behind her.

_Where do we go from here? _She wondered quietly as she looked around the dead streets, _perhaps there is some sort of abandoned location? _Christine ran through all the options and then stopped walking. When she turned he stopped right in front of her, he smelled of blood and hay.

"I do not know where to go," she ran her hand through her hair, "there is absolutely nowhere to go where we could gather warmth. Unless of course you consider…" she thought about it for a moment. He observed her curiously. Emotions played on out her face in quick flickers. Within a matter of moments she was walking again.

Christine walked and turned corners wildly. And for a long time she thought that perhaps she was getting lost but when she finally turned onto a deserted street she let out a triumphant smile, "this is it!"

_This is it? _Looking down the street he could see nothing but huddled trembling figures. Clearly people trying to warm themselves of the cold on both sides of the streets against stone shops with dirty signs. But Christine was not walking towards them. Instead she turned to the right, and into yet another space between two buildings. He went after her silently.

"No one truly knows of this place," she explained and made a right in the alleyway. They came to a stop before the door of a shop. She forced the door handle to the right and jiggled it with difficulty. Making a lot of noise in the process. Finally she gave up and threw her hands out with annoyance.

He almost smirked at her little display of frustration but instead stepped in her way and took the doorknob in his hand. With a swift jerk he popped it to the right and the door opened.

Christine looked up at him and blinked. He must have had a great deal of strength in those skinny limbs.

Wordlessly he waited for her to enter first, she led him inside the small establishment, and he shut the door behind them.

Inside it was dusty and filthy. It was clearly some sort of bar. Quietly Christine led him to a door behind the bar itself and down a path of dark stairs. Clearly her eyes were not as adjusted to the dark as his own because she took every step with a tumultuous slowness. It made him impatient.

Eventually they made it down to the basement of the place. It was completely empty except for their presence.

"For tonight we will sleep here. We must remain silent. The owners of this establishment do not venture down here for fear that they might encounter me again," she smirked almost proudly, "I gave them a terrible scare the last time they came, but it was completely accidental. However, tomorrow night we will have to find a new place to sleep in," she looked down at his feet, "and perhaps new clothing for you."

She walked to the corner of the dusty room, cringing when she heard the sound of rats skittering. Naturally he followed but kept himself at a distance. The masked male lowered himself to the ground beside her. Christine leaned to the left and closed her eyes. Trying to get comfortable against the dusty stones, and trying to ignore the squeaking of mice and rats.

A long time passed and she remained silent, signaling to the male that she had fallen asleep. He opened the journal and observed his notes, hearing them almost perfectly.

He was free.

Closing the book and slumping his head back against the wall, he tried to focus on anything else except the lack of bars around him. It was really very difficult. When he had stepped out into the night his senses stung at the open air. The lightshow from the sky astonished him and mystified him. The night was truly a lovely thing. He glanced to the girl, observing her as she slept.

She was a peculiar looking female. Her eyes were awfully weary, they were the color of a stormy sea. Or at least what he imagined a stormy sea to look like. Her mouth was delicate in appearance but upon closer inspection they were slightly cracked, especially around the corners. Her cheeks were sunken, and her hair was as thin as it could possibly get. It held no volume, it was only slightly wavy. And her breaths looked overly painful. His eyes were so adjusted to the dark that he could almost see the form of her ribs pushing against her skin whenever she took a breath.

Resting an elbow on his right knee he drew it towards his chest. Allowing his left leg to stretch out comfortably.

"Thank you," he murmured. Almost inaudibly.

There was a moment of silence. Then she shocked him by responding in a half-awake murmur.

"You're welcome."

* * *

**Short and sweet, needed and important :) Hope you all enjoyed it. Thank you for your wonderful response :) I can't wait to show you what's in store. :)! **


	13. Oracle

**Chapter XIII**

The next morning Christine woke up with a sore hip and pain at her joints. Everything around her was dark but she knew that the sun had come up. She just felt it. Beside her the leather faced male quietly stared at her. He had slept, but when she had stirred awake he had woken up as well.

"Good morning," she winced as she came to a stand. When she heard no reply she worried that he was not there, after all she could not see in the dark, "hello?"

"Yes."

Christine let out a sigh of relief and smiled. He had a nice sounding voice. It was smooth and quiet. There was a guileless quality to it unlike his appearance and the behavior she had remembered from the day before. "How did you sleep?"

He thought about that for a moment, "well."

"I am glad to hear that, now, you and I must discuss a few things," she settled back down to the ground and faced where she was certain he sat. He stared at her quietly, her eyes were completely unfocused in the dark, "I must call you by something. Do you have a name?"

_Devils Child, Satan's spawn, Skeleton boy, Skeleton, pig. _"Yes, I have many names."

She shifted uncomfortably, knowing exactly what he was referring to. Also, his voice was gripping, "do you have an appropriate name by which I can call you? I would prefer one that does not make me cringe."

He thought for a long moment. He did not have any name aside from the ones assigned to him by the now one-eyed man, "no."

She sighed heavily, "what do you wish to be called?"

He thought for a moment, and then quickly muttered, "Erik."

She smiled, she liked that name, "the Swedish meaning of that name is _to be powerful_."

_Then I suppose I have picked the wrong name. _

"I think it fits you perfectly," Christine said and stood, "you must stay here Erik. I am going to try and search for something for us to eat, and gather some new clothing for you. I will be back in the evening… if for any reason anyone should come down here please do your best to stay out of harms reach."

_In the evening? _He frowned at this, _she plans to return so late? And what shall I do while she is out wandering the streets of Paris thieving? Shall I play with the rats?_

"Now, another thing we must discuss is what we plan to do about that mask."

Now he stiffened. His hands tightened around the journal.

"I think that there would be better options than that leather covering," she squinted in the dark, "it is soiled with blood and sweat," _possibly tears, _she thought, "and there is simply no reason as to why I cannot get you a new one. If I have time today I will do my best to secure you a new mask. I will bring you many if possible, then you can have multiple options. Lastly," she shifted more uncomfortably, "I will be returning to the carnival."

"What?" His voice was low and as deadly as poison.

"I must return… I left my cloak there and it is very important to me. It is the only manner in which I can take what I need from shops in the city. I will be very careful. I imagine that it is in the tent of that vile man," she frowned remembering him and his ultimate demise. "If I do not return by tonight then it means that something has happened. Then you must get out of here. Immediately," she urged, "for if the owners of the establishment above us should suspect that someone is down here they will most certainly come down and attempt to harm or kill you. Do you understand?"

He did not understand at all. Why was she going to go back there? For a _cloak_? Was the girl as stupid as he had originally thought? Yes, obviously she was! Only a stupid girl would think that returning—

"Erik, do you understand?" She asked again, needing to hear it from him.

"Yes, I understand," his voice was like molten iron.

"Good…" she stood and sighed, "I will see you when I return."

Erik watched her go silently. Every footfall she took away from him made his grip tighten around the journal. The wooden stairs creaked as Christine went up the stairs silently.

**…**

The streets of Paris were littered with people. The sun was shining and ladies huddled closely to their admirers, seeking warmth. Christine wrapped her arms around herself and avoided looking at anyone in the eye.

She was walking with a slight limp. Her hip was bruised and the farther she walked the more it pained her. But she had to get to the carnival, she needed to find that cloak. It was the only remnant of her father, and it was also the only reason she got away with her thievery.

It was not something she was proud of, but yet when she thought about the cleverness of it all she felt slightly haughty.

Christine walked and walked until she drew close to the carnival. She stopped and observed.

Everything was still set up, but now that it was the day time there were people walking around simply socializing.

Would they recognize her if she walked inside? Certainly they might, but would they link her with the murder of the man and… 'Erik's' disappearance? Biting her lip nervously she thought about her options.

_If I sneak into the area I will be aimlessly searching for a cloth, sneaking in and out of tents like the thief I am. And if I am caught then they will probably take my hand like savages… But if I simply ask then they might know where the article of clothing is and simply give it to me, and then I will be free to go. _

So what to do?

Christine steeled her will and entered through the black iron fence. The area was truly a park, it was only obstructed by the various tents set up. She padded through the grassy path quietly and turned to the left and onto the dirt path. On either side of the wide walkway there were tents. She looked around nervously, hoping to not catch sight of the man who had shoved her so violently to the ground. When she spotted the black tent at the very end of the path she stopped walking. That tent held memories best forgotten. With that in mind she turned around.

As she did she noticed the man with the gold and red pants standing by a blue tent, surrounded by a group of men, they were all having a loud laugh and she wondered if they were not in mourning for the loss of the man who she supposed was their friend. _These men probably do not grow attachments, they are nomadic people, they understand that people come and go. _

Quietly Christine walked forward towards him. He caught sight of her and raised a black brow, what was this little thing doing back here? He excused himself and walked towards her quietly, smirking as she clutched her hip.

"You have not learned your lesson, lad."

"I did not _wish_ to return," she stated haughtily, "I was forced to under the circumstances."

"And what circumstances would those be?" He crossed his arms with a smirk, "you were told to not return."

"The brute who handled me so roughly made me lose an item of great importance," she stated firmly, "my cloak."

"Ah," he rubbed the black whiskers at his mouth thoughtfully, "that thing you call a cloak? With the pockets?"

"So you've seen it!" She exclaimed happily.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I have seen it?"

"You would not know it had pockets unless you grabbed it and inspected the material."

"Clever, aren't you lad?" He smiled, "yes, yes I have seen the cloak."

"Would you tell me where it is then? I must be on my way."

The man laughed and turned, she followed him down the path and away from the black tent, he led her past his friends and then to a green tent, "you mean that you must be on your way – to _steal_."

Without responding Christine followed him inside. The set up was simple. A soiled cot in the corner of the small 'room' and a metal container holding what she imagined was water. On a chair was her cloak. He snatched it up and handed it to her. Christine smiled widely and threw it on.

"Thank you very much," she smiled.

"You are most welcome," he led her out and then turned to stare at her as she shivered against the rough material, "I suggest you do not return, the attraction which you were so interested in glimpsing has escaped."

She did not allow her body to stiffen, she tried to look confused, "whatever do you mean?"

His eyes narrowed, "the attraction has escaped, the skeletal boy."

Christine's eyes widened, "that is horrible."

"Indeed," he narrowed his eyes again and then looked up past her for a moment, then back down, "you best be on your way lad."

"Thank you once again," she smiled gently and walked away from him.

How easy! And to think that she might have been wandering all of this area simply scavenging for this one object! As Christine reached the opening in the iron fence by which she had entered she looked back and saw that the man was laughing at another male. This male was the one who had shoved her to the ground, and he was yelling at the man with the striped pants.

"You have no right to enter my tent!" He was yelling, "it is my privacy!" the man with the black whiskers kept laughing, sticking his belly out and throwing his head back. Christine bit her lip to contain laughter, realizing that the tent which she had entered was not his.

She glanced back to where Erik had been kept once more and narrowed her eyes, it was not because of all the memories it held.

It was because passing by the front of the tent, being helped to hobble forward, was a man. His face was turned up towards her with confusion. His one good eye narrowed as he tried to focus in on her, and his bad eye twitched horribly.

But Christine had vanished already, stealing through the streets quickly. Her heart was in her throat, and her eyes stung with fear.

_Dear God, the man is not dead!_

**…**

Erik stayed very still. Watching the rat as it neared him and dared to nibble on his pants. Any second now…

He snatched his hand out and quickly snapped its neck. Frowning as the tail stiffened and twitched one last time. _Disgusting little creatures, but useful. _

When he had made a messy incision in its side, using a rock, he began to write again. He could hardly see but he could imagine the notes and imitate them down to a perfect size on the sheet of paper.

Upstairs the sound of women singing vulgarly had died out a long time ago. Their 'singing' had made him almost mad. But luckily for him the establishment closed. Hours had passed since then.

His thought constantly turned back to the girl. He wondered about her, how she ended up on the street, and where her parents were. He also wanted to know why it is that she had bothered to consider his state of dress. It should not have mattered to her when she herself was hardly clothed appropriately.

His thoughts turned back to his childhood. He could not remember his own mother well. He never saw her. The only company he had was that of slaves and horses. The people had always been kind to him and taught him of their tribal songs and religions. They taught him languages and even went as far as introducing him to different instruments. It was from them that he got his interest in music at all.

And then he had been sold off to 'Javert' whose name he had learned only the day before. Javert had taken him as far as Persia and baited him with promises of instruments. He never failed to fulfill these promises. That was the cruelty of it all. He had him wrapped around his fat finger.

He would get beaten every other day. It was never used as a punishment, unless he truly annoyed the man. But he would have his instrument right after every session with his music books. It was after he had dared to attempt an escape that the beatings became more frequent with less time to heal and less time for his music.

The door creaked open and Erik came to a stand, tensing and preparing to fight, but upon seeing the small dirty feet he relaxed. It was only Christine.

She stepped clumsily down a few steps and he met her at the landing, slightly amazed to see her cloak around her shoulders.

"Hello Erik," she smiled shyly, noticing how he stared at her with a very vague look of extolment. His amber eyes were catching the light filtering in from the establishment upstairs, and she tried to not admire them too much, _but they are truly captivating, _"I have some clothing that I think would fit you… and a pair of shoes," she held up a black bag, "there are also fruits in there. I will wait for you upstairs until you finish changing."

He took the bag silently and watched after her as she raced up the stairs quietly.

_Why does she not clothe herself? _He looked down at the bag in his hands and walked deeper into the dark. _Did she not pick out a pair of shoes for herself?_

Erik stripped himself of his clothing and quickly dressed himself.

She had picked out very dark pants with a slight striped pattern to them. She had also gotten a white shirt with buttons going down the center and black vest. He hesitantly put it on. It was almost perfect to his size, but of course his unstable diet made him too thin for almost anything, and this was not an exception.

Erik took his shoes off and winced as blood rushed through his feet. It stung and then dulled itself out. Silently he put on the shoes she had gotten him and came to a stand. Then he noticed a cravat in the bag, it was colored like blood and he smirked. Had she done this on purpose? Silently he observed the material. _How in the world does this work?_

He tried for a few moments to put it on and gave up with a huff. He could not understand how men wore these things, they made it easier to be strangled by an enemy. It was a noose around their own necks waiting to be pulled and tightened. He grabbed the bag, the journal and the shoes and kicked the rat away.

As he made his way up the stairs he began to grow hesitant. What if she laughed at him? _Well then I will make sure she never has proper use of her skinny throat again!_

Christine was sitting at the bar drumming her fingers when he appeared. She smiled at him and looked him over.

He was so tall and thin that the clothing only accentuated his height and his thin body. But he looked much better nonetheless. "You look very fine Erik."

He humphed and bit back a retort that would surely bring her to silence. Instead he came closer and thrust the cravat out at her, "you deal with this blasted thing."

She smiled again at hearing him speak, "would you mind if I put it on you? I know how to tie them –

"Do not touch me." He warned.

Christine stiffened slightly but then nodded and put the cravat in the inner pocket of her cloak. Erik observed her for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably. Her feet her very bare. His were not. In fact his were warm inside the clean shoes.

"I suppose I should show you the masks now," she murmured awkwardly and pulled out a bag beside her. On the bar she laid out the different items she had acquired, "I did not know which would fit your taste and so I only tried to pick designs based on what you already have."

He looked at the masks. Some were amusing, and some were outright strange. In the end it came down to one which was white and covered the top have of his face, leaving the bottom half exposed. It was white, with black wiring around it. It would have hidden his cheekbones as well. But this would not suffice.

He grabbed the smaller mask. It would cover the entire right side of his face and his entire forehead. It would leave the other half of his face exposed from the eye brow down. Would she bear the sight of it?

"You must pick a new mask," she urged, "the leather which you wear is toxic to your health."

Erik took the white mask carefully and turned from her, putting it over the leather of his face. It would be an almost perfect fit. He would have to make a few adjustments with time. Yes, but in the end this would be better than the thing he wore now.

"Turn away," he murmured quietly, not wanting to risk her seeing him in any way. When he heard her turn he did too, making sure there were no mirrors by which she could see reflection. There were none.

Quietly he peeled off the leather and replaced it with the white mask. The other half of his face was not nearly as bad as the other. But people shrieked nonetheless. His gaunt features made him look skeletal and horrifying even in places that were not marred.

The white mask felt very light on his face and for few moments he stood there pressing it down, ensuring it was in place. When he was certain everything that needed to be covered was covered he said, "you may turn."

Christine turned around and stared at him as he watched her, standoffish naturally.

The exposed side of his face was interesting to her. She could see his youth by the lack of age lines around his eyes. There were only shadows there that made him look weary. His eyebrow were as dark as his hair and was pulled into a frown towards the center of his face. His cheeks were sunken from lack of food and naturally it gave everything else a sharp look. It looks as if though touching him would draw blood, everything looked deadly. Even the look of his mouth. The side which she could see indicated that his lips were thin and grimly set. But his eyes were something else altogether. They glowed at her it seemed.

"You look much better Erik," she smiled and turned to put all the masks back in the trash bag she had used to take all the goods. But she wanted to stare, he was intriguing, but she would not do that. It would make him uncomfortable, and she did not want to appear to be gawking, "may I enquire about your age?"

"I am seventeen years of age." He put the leather mask down onto the table.

Would this be the last time he held it?

"I am sixteen," she smiled and looked up at him. Noticing how his skin tone was porcelain, and this was in a very strange contrast to his very, very dark hair. It was falling around his face messily and he ran his bony fingers through it, brushing it back. "I must ask you one final question, although I cannot promise that I will not ask you more tomorrow." She waited for his response, he only stared at her impassively, and put his hands behind his back, regarding her seriously and clenching his jaw slightly, "do you intend to stay… with me?"

* * *

**woo! A much longer chapter! :) I hope you all enjoyed it, I loved this chapter. for obvious reasons like the fact that Javert is still alive!**

**So what did you all think darlings? :) **

**Questions:**

**1. Did you suspect Javert was still alive?**

**2. Do you think Javert saw Christine?**

**3. Should Christine tell Erik that the man is still living?**

**4. Which is your favorite Erik mask?**

**I'm interested in hearing what you think, so review ! :) **


	14. Conundrum

**Chapter XIV**

Christine walked down the street, quietly as always. She hid two apples in her cloak. She could feel the warm weather was approaching. She could not wait, it meant that she would not have to worry about seeking shelter from the rain or the snow for a long time, and it also meant that she would be able to stay out longer. She thrived in the warm sun.

Christine stopped in front of a small store and settled down, on the ground. Gingerly she set out a small cup she had found in someone's waste bag. She cleared her throat a few times and breathed deeply from her chest, shutting her eyes she began to sing.

But her heart was not in the song.

The magic of music had been lost to her ever since her father died, and there was another reason for the absence of the glitter in her eyes when she sang. The reason was a tall male who wore a white mask and made less noise than a cat.

Her thoughts turned back to her conversation with him from that morning, she had asked him if he had plans to stay with her or if he would go away.

Erik had stared at her for a few moments, narrowing his eyes the slightest bit, quickly she explained, "I do not mind you, should you choose to stay. It is just a matter of practicality. I will not be here very often as I must get food. It is how I spend most of my days. Some days I might not return at all and if that should happen it is because I have been caught and cannot make it out of where I am. And what will you do?"

He had never given that much thought. He silently mused on the idea, while she was out what would he do with himself? Perhaps compose. The idea made him uncomfortable. _I'd rather not seem like a beast and allow her to risk her life while I write music for my enjoyment. I do not imagine she would be pleased by the idea…. _He paused and cursed himself, a small frown perched itself on his brow, _pleased? Why should it matter? Let her be unhappy!_

"Erik?" Christine tilted her head carefully to the side.

"Yes, I intend to remain here. For now," he stated with a guarded tone. As if expecting her to pounce on him for the comment.

"Alright, and what will you do while I am out?"

He gave her a mild shrug and flexed his jaw slightly, "I suppose I can work in the night." he explained quickly, noticing her confused expression, "I do not intend to sleep in the streets or in basements for the remainder of my stay. While in the day you do whatever it is that you do I will sleep. In the night you will stay somewhere of my choosing-

"Your choosing?" Her hands turned to fists, she clasped her hands together and steeled her arms, "_my_ choosing."

"Your choosing? Do not amuse yourself with that idea any longer. You have proven yourself a clever thief and a worthy opponent but that is where your skills end. You would have us hide in the basement of an establishment filled with people, simply hoping that they will not meander down there because you scared the owner on _one_ occasion." He narrowed his eyes and took on a condescending tone, "that is not very clever, _thief_."

"My name is Christine!" She clenched her jaw tightly. _What an infuriating man! How dare he?_ "And I will have you know, Erik, that I am well versed on where to seek shelter."

He almost smirked at her anger. She reminded him of an angry cat… _no, a kitten._

Christine seemed to pull herself together for a moment and she sighed heavily, "fine. You may search for areas for us to rest permanently. However, for today I must ask you to remain hidden." Erik nodded silently and then she quietly led him across the abandoned street, ignoring the huddled homeless individuals and led him to a building on the other side of the street. Christine opened a closed door and led him into an abandoned flat. He began to wonder why it was that she did not reside here permanently, but she seemed to know he was thinking the same thing because she said, "it is much to open. If people shoulder wander in here seeking to buy the building it will not be good if I were to be caught sneaking in here. There are also people who reside here, they return at night. I shall be back by then and we will look for somewhere to stay…" she thought for a moment, "if danger presents itself please get out as quickly as possible. If you do not know where to go then simply return to the bar establishment and I will go there."

Erik did not respond so she bid him farewell and walked to the door that would lead her into the small hallway and then out the door, but his voice stilled her, "Christine."

"Yes?" she turned and found him staring out the window, ensuring that he was out of the direct sunlight.

"Earlier you told me that I may search for areas for us to rest permanently," he turned his eyes to her, "do not make the mistake of thinking you must give me permission to do something again. I will do whatever I wish without your permission."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly muttered and apology and escaped the building quickly.

Christine eventually stopped singing. Hours had passed. She looked down at her cup and noticed a few coins in it. Biting her lip nervously she counted the money. It would be enough to get her perhaps two separate loaves of bread. Excitedly Christine stood from where she sat and picked up the cup.

Erik would be very hungry by the time she got back, but hopefully the bread would be enough to satisfy his hunger for the night.

Christine stepped into a small shop and ignored the way people scrunched up their noses at her. She could hear their muttering, and it made herself conscious. She quietly walked up to the selection of bread and selected two pieces and went up to the clerk, smiling as he eyeballed her. Christine took the two breads, thanked him and exited out to the streets. The sun was falling already.

Her throat was sore from singing and so she quietly hummed as she walked barefoot down the cold street.

It was as she turned a corner, narrowly missing a lady and her daughter that she bumped into a hard chest and stumbled back a few steps.

She looked to the man who she had collided with. He was just as disheveled as she was, and for a long time Christine could only stare at him. He wore ripped dark pants and a long-sleeved faded green shirt. His eyes were shiny brown and his mouth was dry and cracked at the corners. He resembled a cold stone.

"Forgive me," Christine deepened her voice slightly and then made a move to sidestep him and instead ran into his chest again. He smirked down at her as she stilled and looked up at him seriously, "step out of my way."

"What do you have in the bag, little boy?" His challenging stare told her that she had better answer wisely.

"I must bring this to my master," she lied easily, "he will not be pleased if I have not returned. He will send his guards out."

It seemed that the boy did not believe her in the slightest because he smirked and then reached down and snatched at the bag but Christine yanked her arm back and began to shake with anger, her eyes narrowed, "do not touch me. I will—

"What? What will you do?" The boy stepped forward, towering over her with his height. Christine nervously looked around, people ignored, "give it to me."

His hand darted out and he easily grabbed her around the wrist. She yelped and resumed to drop the bag before he could grab it and then shove him back. The boy came at her again and she looked around for help, people sidestepped them silently as Christine trembled under the stare of the male, the _much_ taller male.

"Give it to me." He ordered, still walking towards her.

Christine turned her shoulder towards him and slammed her bodyweight into his chest, knocking him to the ground. There he made a move to roll onto his feet again but she lifted her fist, warning him that if he stood he would end up on the concrete. Except he would not be able to stand this time around.

They both breathed heavily and stared at one another for a long time. The boy remained completely still, afraid that if he moved she might hit him as she was poised to.

"Never intercept my path again," she warned him angrily, "the next time you do you shall find yourself in a very unwanted position. Are we understood?" When he didn't answer she crouched down and glared into his eyes, he trembled and people stared at her with shock, "are we understood?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

She took the bag of bread from where it had fallen and quickly walked away, knowing that if she stayed long enough he would follow her.

Her thoughts turned back to Erik and she wondered how he might have handled the situation. She once again got the image of him stabbing the man through the eye… that man who was still very much alive.

Something stopped her from telling him, she did not know what it was exactly but something told her it would be a horrible thing to do. _I will keep it silent. That man will be gone to Reims very soon and we will never see him again. _Christine sighed quietly and vowed that she would not tell Erik that the man was still alive.

When she got into the flat she quietly whispered out for him. At first nothing moved, and so she whispered his name out again, nervously this time. A shadow moved and suddenly he was in front of her as she yelped.

"Dear God, must you hide that way?" She put a hand to her chest and tried to calm her heart. Erik stood silently and she could almost see a ghostly smile playing over the exposed side of his mouth, "come we must go now."

Erik followed her out into the darkened streets and moved like a shadow behind her as they went through alleyways until finally they reached a small store. Christine quietly jiggled the doorknob and then looked to him expectantly. Erik examined the lock for a moment and then pulled out a long metallic instrument.

"What is that?" She whispered a bit too loudly as he began to use it like a key.

"It was laying around that awful flat, I took it," he jammed the metallic instrument once more into the door and it popped open. He stood and stared at her smugly. Christine bit her lip and mumbled something about being able to do it if he had given her the instrument then stepped into the store.

Erik followed and noticed that this was a candy shop. He eyeballed the colorful delicacies and without Christine's knowledge took a few things and buried them into his pockets.

They finally came to a stop in a basement filled with boxes. It was a maze really.

"We will rest here tonight…" Christine said.

It was then that he noticed that she kept rubbing her throat, and her voice was a bit raspy.

"I bought bread and took a few fruits," she smiled a bit shyly and led him through the maze of boxes until they reached the back of the basement. Luckily Christine heard no rats or mice, Erik was not pleased by this. _How will I write?_ He wondered. Again he noticed her rubbing her throat.

"Is there a reason you rub your neck in such an annoying fashion?" It irked him. The way she squeezed at her throat as if she were trying to harm herself.

"I sang today," she explained.

He raised a brow at this and took a seat beside her as she pulled out a loaf of bread and handed it to him, he bit into it instantly, savoring the flavor, "you sang."

"Yes," she nodded, "my papa always told me it was one of my many gifts but certainly my best one."

_She has undoubtedly fooled herself into believing she can sing, _he commented silently. Her speaking voice was silvery, and almost childlike except for when she grew annoyed, it would drop and her words would come out forced.

"On my way home I—" she stopped herself instantly. There was no home, she began again, "On my way to you I was intercepted by a young boy, obviously he too was looking for something to eat as evidenced by his attire. He tried to take the meal I had acquired and I was forced to become physical."

This stilled him, he turned his gaze to her sleepy stare, "what do you mean?"

"He made an attempt to grab the food from my arms and I threw him to the ground."

He ran his eyes over her in the dark. He found no evidence of bruising, "how foolish of you," he stared at her, daunted that she would try to take a man in the streets, "you would fight over food? Food that you could have easily taken? You should have let him have it."

"It was mine," she argued defensively, albeit a bit taken aback.

"It was food that you could have just stolen. Why in the world would you waste the little bit of money you do acquire on this? You should have kept the money and taken the bread."

Christine blinked into the dark quietly, biting her lip as she considered the moral conundrum he posed. _He wants to know why it is that I chose to pay and give away the only money I had – as opposed to simply taking the bread. _

"If someone intercepts you again do not put your life at risk for this," he gestured to the bread but knew she couldn't see half as well as he in the dark.

Christine swallowed and rubbed her throat, nodding quietly, "Yes, Erik."

"Goodnight," _foolish Christine._

"Sleep well Erik," she finished the last of her bread and pulled out the fruit she had gotten him. She put it at his feet, hoping he saw it and saved hers for the morning. That night she slept with dreams of her father. Erik watched her for most of that night, annoyingly fascinated.

* * *

**:o SO what did you think? :) I liked this chapter because it's going to set up a very important scene later on :) I lost my writing mojo for a few days - but it's back now! So that makes me really happy. Thank you guys for the reviews ! I can't tell you how much it means to me haha. And thank you to my Fanfiction buddy - FantomPhan33 - she is my beta of sorts :) **

**SO WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ERIK'S MORAL CONUNDRUM?! What would YOU have done, stolen the bread, or paid? **


	15. The Home

**Chapter XV**

The next morning Christine and Erik walked through the streets before the sun could light Paris. Once again she hid him in an abandoned slum of a decrepit building and hoarsely told him that she would return to him within a matter of hours. Her croaky voice made him frown. He said nothing of it and watched her go without a word.

Christine was gone for the entire day and Erik waited for her while quietly humming out the tunes he had written down. They were almost perfect. The only thing that was truly missing was the voice for the music. In the end it did not matter for he knew that he would never display this music to anyone. They would hardly give a masked man with no reputation the time of day.

Erik's thoughts wandered to Christine as he speculated about what she was doing. There was something truly mystifying about the girl. He thought it to be her very determined personality. Although he believed that one day it would get her into more trouble than even she could handle. And the more he stared at her the more fixed her appearance became in his mind, almost engrained behind his eyelids.

Behind the grime he could imagine pretty fair flesh, and behind her strong demeanor he imagined a strangely immature girl whose heart lay in things unknown to him. There was something about her that seemed innocent in the strangest of ways, after all, she had seen him stab a man through the eye and hardly spoke about it afterwards. Despite this, she retained the wholeness he lacked. He was envious.

When the sun began to fall Erik was standing by a dusty window and waiting for her. He caught sight of Christine walking down the street with a hurried pace and quietly left the flat to meet her.

As Erik made his way down the narrow steps Christine opened the dusty door of the apartment building. Light flooded in from outside and hit his white mask. She caught sight of this and this only and released a hard squeak, promptly falling back against the door as Erik stood still, staring down at her from the steps with annoyance.

Christine put her hand to her chest and breathed hard, "Dear God Erik, you must not do that!"

He rolled his eyes at her behavior and continued to walk down, containing a smirk as Christine calmed her breathing. He flexed his jaw slightly from side to side as he landed on the bottom step and then stared down at her as she leaned against the doorway and looked up at him.

"You frightened me."

"I frighten many people."

Her eyes dimmed and then she smiled, "they are _unwise_ people, Erik."

She could see from the way he slightly swallowed that he was taken aback. Deciding to take him out of his stupefied state she pulled out objects from her cloak and began walking out into the dark, Erik was instantly at her side.

"This is for you," Christine handed him a small loaf of bread, "it is slightly stale." He ignored her warning and watched her curiously as she pulled out yet another object, this one was a small glass bottle. She held it out to him, "there is water inside. I found the bottle in the street and washed it out in the Seine. It is quite refreshing. Have some," she encouraged.

Erik eyeballed the bottle and removed the cork with a curious stare. Had her lips touched the rim of the bottle? He hesitated for a moment. Would he taste her lips on it? Would that count as a sort of kiss? Did he want it to? _Damn it, will I now suffer these thoughts at the mere idea that she drank from the same rim as I? _Cautiously Erik raised it to his mouth and sipped the water. It made his head spin very slightly. He could feel it as it flowed through his system, like numerous icy branches spreading through his chest.

When he lowered the bottle he only raised it to his mouth again. He continued to follow Christine. She began to speak in a soft voice as they turned a corner.

"Tonight we will return to the establishment in which we first rested. I think that it will be best for me to spend that night there, I am not worried about the patrons of the bar entering the lower level of the establishment. I will rest the night while you are out searching for—_Maudit_!"

Erik raised a brow at her sharp curse as she began to hop on one foot. He stopped walking as she hopped to the curb and lowered herself, wincing visibly and clutching her bare foot protectively. As he stepped closer he could see that she had a small piece of glass stuck in her foot.

"Perfect, perfect!" She spluttered angrily. Erik bit back a chuckle as Christine examined her foot closely and wrinkled her nose at it. He drew closer and stared down at her, she raised her gaze up to him, now irritated by the pain in her foot, "yes?"

"You must pull it out," he stated firmly and pointed to the small glass in her foot, "how else will you walk."

"Well I do not have anything to pull it out with now do I?" Christine grumbled some more frustrated words and made an attempt to squeeze at the area where the glass was but winced and pull her hand away instantly, resting her foot on her thigh. Erik found her to look… amusing. And, he hated to admit it but, _she looks absolutely endearing. _

Erik crouched in front of her and set the bottle down carefully, she took a look at the glass and winced as if it reminded her of what was in her foot. He did not want to touch her, and yet he knew that he could get the small piece out faster than she could.

"You must squeeze from the outside and continue squeezing. If you pull back it will never be forced out."

Christine looked up at him and nodded, biting her lip. She lowered her head to the black pad of her foot and to where there was a small bubble of blood. Cautiously Christine placed her thumbs around the tender area and frowned as she began to squeeze. Erik watched, fascinated as blood pooled and she squeezed harder still. He had never seen anyone else's blood except that of Javert. This was different blood. _This is the blood of an innocent, _he thought with fascination as the red surged up and she applied more pressure. _Yet, what gives me the thought that she is innocent? Perhaps Christine has slayed more men than I have fingers… _But no. He could not envision it. Her face scrunched up in an expression of annoyance and then she let out a small breath of relief as the small glass came out. Christine made an attempt to wipe at the blood with her dirty cloak.

"Stop it, are you foolish?" Erik snapped quietly and pulled out the small bottle she had given him for his wounds.

"No," she protested, "that is for your back. You still need to use it, pass me the water instead if you will."

He gave her an unreadable stare and handed her the bottle. Christine made an attempt to take the cork off and thrust the bottle at him, annoyed that he had shut it so tightly. He unscrewed it for her and resisted another smirk when Christine grumbled to herself and poured the water over her foot. It fell out of the bottle crystal clear and dripped off her foot opaque. Finishing, she placed the bottle on the ground, leaving some water for Erik inside. Then quietly she rose and carefully stepped, feeling for anymore embedded glass.

Christine did not say a word and began walking, Erik followed after her. He suspected that she was a little embarrassed by her small outburst at the piece of glass. She walked with her chin high as if she had just experienced the most embarrassing thing and now needed to present herself in a stoic manner. _An interesting creature indeed. _

Erik and Christine walked and walked until finally they reached the bar establishment. Erik opened the door and she bid him farewell, reminding him to return before the sun rose. He nodded and watched her as she walked down the stairs and to the basement.

"Would you like my cloak Erik?" She asked him when she reached the last step, "it might be cold."

He stared at her for a long time. Wondering if Christine realized how asinine her question had been. _I have slept on hay, in a cage, without the need for covers for most of my life and yet she believes that I need a cloak to protect me from light winds?_

Christine watched him curiously as he looked down at her. He seemed confused, and he was staring at her as if he couldn't understand her entire question.

Without a word he turned and shut the door before stalking out into the night.

**…**

The streets of Paris fascinated Erik. He found himself staring at the intricate buildings with interest while always sticking to the shadows. He did that very well. He would always make sure that even the moonlight's glow did not touch him, afraid that it might call attention to him. Though the streets were mostly empty, there were still prostitutes out. They stood on corners and absent mindedly strolled. No one noticed him, and he found himself tempted to linger, just to see if they would ever notice his presence. But he did not dare.

Christine was waiting for him, and if someone should venture into the basement while he stood there playing daredevil he would not be able to live it down. That annoyed him to his very core. Yet, he did not mind it as much as he had minded expecting her to return every night with a peach in hand.

Erik took another bite out of the bread.

_What a strange woman - that Christine Daae. _

Erik stopped in front of a clothing shop and cautiously looked through the window, searching for any signs of anyone inside. Silently he moved to the front door and easily slipped inside the shop. Erik wandered the store for a long time until he found what he needed, then he left as easily as he entered, shutting the door behind him and ignoring the part of him that called him a fool for what he had just done.

**…**

Erik walked and walked until he came to an absolute halt in the middle of a street too large to be called a street. It was more like a long path of cement leading to one structure.

_Magnificent. _

It was a large edifice made of absolute splendor. Its exterior was a soft pastel white that gave it the illusion of being carved straight out of marble except for the beautiful statues and ornate designs which seemed to be made of gold. The structure itself was immense. Truly, it was the most amazing building he had ever laid his eyes on. It stood out against the night sky, calling to him. He had not even realized he had begun a fast walk to it until he was at one of its arched entrances.

Erik quickly strode forward and observed the doors. Large wooden contraptions with clear windows designed in an arch over them. _Absolutely beautiful. It is designed in a Second Empire fashion, the style is a perfect mixture between Neo-Renaissance and Neo-Baroque… perfect, absolutely perfect. Their use of axial symmetry… exactly as it should be. Arched windows, pedimented doors, sculptures, plasters, and garlands, yes, yes it is all perfect. _

Erik stepped back out and stared up at the sculptures. He could see, even from where he was, the finely detailed limbs of them. He stepped back once more until it flooded his vision in its entirety.

And that was how Erik decided that this would be his new home… _their_ home.

He rushed back to Christine, clutching the shoes he had stolen and hoping they would fit her.

* * *

**Aw, how kind of you Erik! Getting Christine shoes :) This was a pretty non-eventful chapter, but stick around, lots of interesting things to come :) **


	16. The Deep End

**Chapter XVI**

Erik made his way towards the bar establishment that night with a small tension in his stomach. It was the good kind of tension. He was excited to begin travelling the Opera House. He would have to get more information, what were their hours, when could he sneak into the establishment? Furthermore, where would he make his room and Christine's?

But then another thought came to him.

What if she did not approve?

Certainly the idea that they might live in an Opera House was a daunting one. After all it would take him quite some time to figure out how he would do everything. And if they were caught the repercussions… well he would rather not think of things like that.

Quietly Erik pushed open the door of the pub and stepped out of the cool night air. He made his way down the stairs inaudibly. The further down he moved the more pronounced Christine's soft breaths grew, and the darker everything became. His vision focused more intently on their surroundings.

Christine was sitting against the back corner of the brick basement. Her head was resting against the wall beside her and she had her knees drawn up to her chest, the cloak was drawn tightly around her. He glided over to her and knelt, frightening away a few mice in the process.

He stared at her for some time and then spoke her name gently. Her eyes burst open instantly at the sound of a voice and she stared into the darkness for a long time. She could see nothing, "I have returned."

Christine felt her body sag with relief, knowing now that it was Erik, then she yawned and covered her mouth, blushing, "good morning Erik."

"Good morning," he responded smoothly, "I have found us a home."

"A home…" the words came with a taste, one unfamiliar but not completely unwelcome. _He said, 'I have found us a home.' So then he intends to stay? He regards us as one unit now… _her thoughts made her smile slightly and she came to a stand, stretching and wincing. After so many years of living in the streets her body had not adjusted to the conditions, "pray tell, where is this home?"

"It is only a few minutes away," he said, "the Opera House."

"The Opera House?" Christine's brow furrowed, "Erik whatever will we do in an opera house? Have you considered that people filter in and out of the Paris Opera house on a daily basis? The efforts we would have to summon just to get _into_ the opera house without being noticed would be absolutely exhausting. There will be managers and patrons, and dancer, singers, and hundreds upon hundreds of guests going to see their shows. Wherever will we live Erik?" Her eyes had bulged by then as she considered the option he proposed, "And what of us Erik? We cannot simply _enter_ the opera house. They will never allow people that appear as you and I to walk in. It will not happen."

Erik regarded her silently. Her worries had deflated all of his previous joy. She was certainly right, and yet, it took only a few moments for him to think of a solution, "Tonight, you and I will enter the Opera House after the sun has fallen and see if it is suitable. I will find a way to get inside."

Christine eyeballed him in the dark, she could see the outline of his figure, "I am not confident in this plan of yours."

Erik did not respond to her, he sat down against the wall and slid her the shoes.

"They are yours," he commented seriously, she squinted in the dark and bent down to examine what she spied, "I did not know your size. If they are uncomfortable or do not fit then you must not wear them."

Christine stared with a thudding heart and picked up the shoes, she could feel that they were made of some soft fabric, and she felt a rough material on the top of the shoes. It was a pattern of some sort. She resisted the burning at her eyes until it faded and cracked a small smile. Shoes… he had gotten her shoes? Why had he even bothered? It was not truly as if she would have glass stuck in her foot every day. Was this perhaps just a way of him thanking her for releasing him from the prison? She did not know, but she did not dare to ask. Christine raised her head and smiled, hoping he could see it.

"Thank you very much Erik, it means more to me than you can possibly know."

He did not respond to her, feeling uncomfortable now and wanting her to leave.

Christine stood and quietly murmured that she would return that night. Erik nodded quietly and she made her way up the stairs.

**…**

When Christine went out, ensuring that she closed the door so that the owners of the establishment would continue to believe that it was in fact locked, she looked down at the shoes.

They were made of black suede with small heels. The toe cap had a gold colored designed that was shaped like a falling tear with swirls on the outline form of it. There were small black satin ruffles lining the strap that would fall over the top of her foot. In truth it was shaped more like a ballet slipper with a heel. There was also a black bow shaped like a flower on the strap. Christine adored them.

Quickly she slipped them on, doing her best to remain quiet and not grin, but she could hardly help it. The shoes were absolutely perfect, they even fit! And better yet they were comfortable and snug. She wondered if he had paid attention or selected at random. Either way they were absolutely flawless.

Christine bit her lip happily and strolled out of the alleyway and began making her way to the street where she might find food. The light tapping of her shoes kept her smile from falling.

Her father had never gotten her any shoes, it was not because he did not want to, but mostly because he couldn't afford it. Unlike Christine her father was no thief. He tried to pay earnestly for everything he had gotten. They bickered over this many times, and Christine – till this day – held by her convictions. Her father's sense of honor had ultimately been his downfall.

He had made certain to always have money for everything he bought. Yet, when it was time to pay those who he had borrowed from back he always came up short. That was of course – until the night when they came after him. That night they ensured he could never fall short again – mainly because he would never be able to pay again.

Christine had been hiding with her father in the alleyway. It was a rainy evening, and as much as she wanted to try and not tremble it was impossible. He kept holding her and kissing her wet forehead, trying to reassure her that the rain would pass. But at the tender age of fourteen Christine did not feel that it ever would.

Then her father peeked his head out again, as he had been for the past thirty minutes. He stiffened this time as he looked out from behind the large trash that was piled up against the wall. His dark beard was soaked and water fell off of it in torrents.

He made a move to stand but her whimper stilled him, "hush now Lass, it is going to be alright. I am only going to speak to the nice men," he assured her. Christine shook her head urgently. She was not nearly as stupid as he liked to believe.

"Father please do not—

"It will be alright," he continued, quietly.

He was always so much more trusting then she was. She knew better. These men were hunting them down for days, it's why they moved so much, "Please Papa—

"Gustave!" One of them called out, "we know you are here. Come, or else you shall not like the outcome if we must go and find you."

"Papa—

"Hush little dove," he kissed her nose gently, and she cried and clutched him desperately, "I love you."

Christine was going to return the sentiment but the next moment he had shoved a rag into her mouth. She was going to take it off but was too frightened to move as he suddenly darted out and went towards the men.

She heard them talking over the rain. They explained that they had been looking for him for quite some time and were not pleased with the fact that he had been running. Her father quickly explained that it had not been his intention to run but that he had to keep moving so that he could find shelter. They knew he was lying, and they told him so. Then she heard a choked sound and she knew that they had hurt him, badly.

She shut her eyes so that she might not have to watch and covered her ears, but she heard it all too clearly. She screamed at the sounds of her father crying out. But they could not hear her through the rag. She sobbed and sobbed and eventually they walked away. Christine continued to sob in the dark, listening for any sound that her father was okay. When she heard nothing she couldn't take it anymore and she crawled out. Her father was left mutilated on the street with gashes on his face, making him hardly recognizable.

Christine blinked out of the memory.

That was the difference between her and her father, he was naïve and she was not. Christine liked to believe that with everything she did she knew what she was getting into, and her father liked to trust that things would always work in their favor.

Her loving fool of a father.

Christine walked and walked until she came to a halt on a crowded street. She took a seat and humbly began to sing.

Hours and hours passed and then finally she stood up with her small earnings and entered a shop. Bread, again, and a fruit for Erik. Quietly she exited the store, ignoring the stares that she received from the more elite individuals of her society.

It was as Christine was walking with her eyes turned down to her pretty shoes that she collided with a body.

It knocked the breath out of her and she stumbled back, catching herself against a wall as she looked up to the person whom she had run into.

"Young man! Mind your step lest you shall cause yourself, or another, grave injury!" The man declared angrily as Christine stumbled back and pressed the bread closely to her chest, breathing heavily as she stared at the tall man.

He was round and had a strange arrogance about him. His facial hair was light brown, almost blonde, and curled at the ends, a grand moustache. His head was balding and for a long moment all Christine could do was stare in fascination at his clothing. He wore a fine black suit, tailored to perfection. His shoes were shining, just like the thick gold ring on his right hand. He brushed at his suit as if she had somehow dirtied it.

"Forgive me, monsieur," Christine whispered softly.

He looked at her with interest for a long moment, "what is your name, lad?"

"Gregor," she lied easily, swallowing the lump in her throat.

He smirked, "Gregor is it? Well, Gregor, might I ask why you are dressed so…" he looked down at her, "humbly… while wearing shoes of such fine material?"

"I saved my earnings on the streets," she explained easily, not knowing why she was explaining at all, "I bought them yesterday, Sir."

"What a respectful thing you are, you speak well too."

"My father taught me to speak properly, sir."

"You father... and where is the man, may I ask?"

For a moment her throat tightened. How did she explain that her father never received a burial, and that meant that he was probably ashes somewhere. She had to abandon his corpse in the alleyway like if he meant nothing at all. It was the most painful thing Christine had ever done.

"Dead, sir," she said stiffly, "my father is dead."

"I am sorry to hear that boy," he admitted, then he cocked his head to the side, confused, "can you read?"

"Yes sir."

"And write?" Christine nodded and he regarded her with more confusion now. "Are you in need of a job, lad?"

She was unsure of how to answer, but she did not wish to lie when it was so obvious that she was in need, "yes, Sir."

He smiled, "I am Monseiur de Chagny, you might have heard of me around these parts. I am in search of new help in my home, would you like to work? It requires only that you follow the directions given to you. Simple things, such as writing letters for me and fetching things here and there. There are other servants there, they would guide you in your duties as an employee under my household."

Christine blinked with shock. Certainly he was joking with her… surely! "truly, Sir?"

"Yes," his blue eyes glittered, "if you are in agreement of course."

"I am," she grinned excitedly, "thank you so much sir."

"Come by my home tomorrow afternoon, I will have someone meet with you to ensure that things are explained to you and we will discuss your payment in details further when you and I meet," he looked up at the darkening sky, "I must get going Gregor, I expect to see you tomorrow."

"Monsieur I do not know your address," she explained quickly.

He paused and raised a brow, "it is simple lad look for the largest house in Paris." With that statement he walked away, leaving 'Gregor' confused. She blinked with shock and sighed, she would have to ask a stranger tomorrow afternoon… certainly someone knew the exact location of his home.

With that in mind Christine made her way towards Erik excitedly, eager to tell him of the development, and interested in seeing the inside of the Opera House.

* * *

**:o Working in the de Chagny home? Well this is certainly going to be interesting, anyone agree? :) Let's see how Erik react's to this shall we? **


	17. The Opera House

**Chapter XVII**

Christine and Erik moved down the empty streets of Paris as silent as felines. Erik kept his eyes peeled for any stragglers and Christine minded her step so that the heel of her shoes would not create too much noise.

"I met a man today," she started as they turned a corner, "his name is Monsieur de Chagny… he is a very wealthy man," she looked up and noticed Erik's impassive expression, "he believes that I would be a suitable employee of his household. I believe it is a good thing for me to accept a position in his home. There will be a handsome pay no doubt. He instructed me to look for the largest home in Paris and that that would be his. I will see him tomorrow."

Erik thought about that for a minute, "Will you return late?"

"Perhaps. I am not sure. Is there any particular reason why you ask?"

"If you return at a late hour of the night then I may simply be inside of the opera house."

This frustrated her and she let it show by exhaling loudly, "we are not certain that this may work to our benefit as of yet. However, you speak as if though you have already begun planning our stay there."

"I am certain that the opera house will be accommodating," his tone darkened slightly and he turned his face to look down at her. Christine was frowning and crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest. Like a petulant child, "is there something in particular that has you so pessimistically opposed to even flattering the idea that it might be suitable for you and I?"

"Yes," she stated sharply, "it is the fact that if I should flatter the idea like a naïve child then I might find myself utterly crushed when it does not work to my favor. I would much rather remain realistically opposed to the idea than helplessly adoring of it."

He said nothing for a moment, trapped in thoughts. _It seems that the girl is not fond of the idea of disappointment and has locked herself into a box where reality never works to her favor. What a strange thing that must be, to be willingly hopeless. _He suspected that Christine was also simply afraid of the disappointment. Perhaps she had suffered it in the past. _Disappointment is a part of life, one should not allow themselves to be held back because of its very realistic probability. _

Christine on the other hand found herself thinking of her father. She knew of his naivety, and his love for all things positive. In the end however his positivity led him to his death, _perhaps if he had simply stayed at my side he would never have had been found. Perhaps they would have vanished… after all they did not see me._

Erik and Christine turned a street and stopped at the Paris Opera House which loomed just on the other side of the street. He was just as fascinated with it as the first time he had seen it. Christine on the other hand tried to ignore its beauty and moved forward without him. He followed only seconds later.

"How do you intend to have us enter?" She no longer made an effort to hide her pessimism, "have you considered that perhaps there are individuals still in the opera house?"

"We will be very silent," he stated firmly, "and I have found a rather simple manner by which to enter."

Erik led her to the side of the opera house, she looked down its length and tried to discern a door in the darkness but found none. It was as they approached the very middle of the large wall that she noticed a small metallic covering over what could only be a vent system of some sort. "Do they not believe anyone would enter using this? This must be a trap of some sort Erik for only a fool would carve a hole into the side of such a building!"

"I suppose we will find out," Erik said as he bent to his knees and slipped his fingers into the holes in the vent covering. Christine hated that she was beginning to grow just as curious. He pulled it for a few moment and then without patience, or regard for silence, he gave one hard yank, pulling it out of the wall entirely. Christine bit her lip with anticipation.

"Would you mind if I went before you?" She knelt down, looking around uneasily.

When he didn't respond she took this as some sort of silent consent. He set the metallic thing down and watched her as she peered into the dark. She listened for the sound of any animals and when she heard none she steeled her will and began to crawl into the darkness. Erik followed, pacing the metal sheet back over the hole and then moving after her.

Christine's heart was drumming softly against her ribs. She could feel all of her previous apprehension dying in her mind. This was all too exciting to not enjoy. Behind her she could hear the very quiet shuffling of Erik. In front of her she heard nothing. Everything was darkness, and occasionally she heard what sounded like water falling from the rock hard wall above her.

"Where do you believe we will end?" Her quiet voice trembled out of her. It echoed softly, surrounding them and making her stop momentarily before she continued to quickly crawl. "I do not feel that we are crawling on an incline or upwards, it feels as if though we are moving in a straight line… and the ceiling is getting lower," she let out an annoyed sound as she bumped her head. Everything was getting much smaller around them.

"We will have to crawl on our elbows," Erik suggested as he felt the rock above his head, it was indeed getting lower.

Christine shuffled forward until she lay almost flat on her stomach and moved forward on her elbows, wincing at how they dug into the rock whenever she made a move forward.

They moved and moved until suddenly her arm came into contact with something that rattled. It sounded like a sheet. Quickly Christine felt in front of her and came into contact with a cool sheet of metal. Her fingers found the holes of it and she used all her strength to push it out. Behind her Erik warily watched in the dark as she pushed using one arm.

"Do you have the strength to remove it?" He asked quietly, impatient.

"Yes, yes, I can feel it giving way," she huffed with effort.

"Make sure it does not fall from your grasp."

"I know what I am doing." She bit at him.

"Are you certain? You are so weak that-

"Be quiet Erik-

"Do not speak to me like-

"I will say whatever— No!"and suddenly, it popped forward, slipping out of her grasp. Christine and Erik stiffened as they listened.

Only seconds later did out clatter to the ground. They remained frozen for a few minutes. Christin heart lurched to her throat as she tried her to pick up any sounds of people who had stayed during the night coming to inspect. They'd certainly be caught.

But when they heard nothing Christine shuffled forward carefully and stuck her head out.

"Stop it," Erik ordered behind her.

Below her she could see almost nothing. She knew however that they were not near the ground. She would have to jump, and this rocked her nerves slightly. Yet, she steeled her will and moved forward more.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked, a hint of anger coming through. He could hear the open air of the opera house, and from the sound of the silence after the metal sheet fell it was clear that they were some feet off of the ground, yet they did not know how high.

"I must jump Erik," she sighed with annoyance as if though it were the most obvious thing in the entire world.

"You do not know how high off the ground we are. You will snap your ankle-

"I will be fine," she countered as she squeezed her body in on itself until her head was facing Erik and her feet were sticking over the ledge. She looked towards his face. She could not see it. Yet, she could hear his frustrated breath.

She began to shuffle backwards and quickly found her hips at the ledge. Christine braced her elbows against the walls and cautiously shuffled down until only her arms held her weight, she began to tremble as her feet dangled over nothing.

"Be careful," Erik demanded as she began to carefully lower herself, holding on for dear life to the ledge and digging her nails into the rock in the process. She could smell the air of the opera house. It was strangely serene. And almost warm. She slowly lowered and felt for any floor beneath her.

"Do not lock your knees," Erik warned her as Christine hung off the ledge, "and when you fall bend them and tried to take the pressure off the fall with your hands.

"Yes," she squeaked steeling her nerves. What if they were thirty feet up? Shutting her eyes she dropped.

Christine released a yelp as the air moved past her. Instantly she bent her knees as she began to fall. Her eyes were shut tightly and suddenly she felt the impact of the floor under the heel of her shoes. She stumbled slightly to the ground and in an instant she was on her feet again, breathing hard with exhilaration.

"Erik!" She called happily, looking up into the dark, "it is not so bad a fall!"

"Keep your voice down," he warned her from where he remained. Erik carefully looked out into the dark. He could make out her form. She stood there impatiently tapping her foot and bracing her hands on her hips. It seemed to him that they were in the auditorium of the opera house. He could make out the form of a stage very far to the right. Christine stood waiting for him in an aisle.

With ease Erik squeezed his feet forward towards the exit of the tunnel and dropped down. Christine began to bounce with excitement, and against his will it was infecting him.

"I can hardly see," she whispered.

"There is no one here Christine," he murmured as he brushed off his clothing. He looked around for a moment, "come, I will not have you falling and harming yourself because your eyesight prohibited you from seeing a seat in your way," with that being said Erik took her by the hem of her cloak and led her down the aisle. Christine could hear that it was carpeted and she widened her eyes as if that might help her discern shapes. But she knew it was futile. Nonetheless she excitedly allowed Erik to tow her down the opera house.

"Can you see?" She asked softly, listening to how her voice carried.

"I can."

"What do you see?"

He paused and moved to the left and around the front of the seats that crowded the opera populaire auditorium. As he let his eyes roam up he could see a second set of seats above the floor they were on. He looked behind them and stared at the stage. Then he looked to Christine who was staring blindly out into the dark, if he lied to her she would have no idea that it was so. The thought that she was completely trusting him made him slightly thrilled, and then suddenly enthralled with that sense of ultimate power. She waited patiently and he spoke, a small tightness in his throat began to form as he began to describe what he could discern through the dark.

"Before us there is a sea of seats. There are many on our floor, and there are four floors housing other seats as well. I can discern that there are also private boxes along the sides of the stage which is directly behind us." Excitedly Christine turned and stared out towards the stage. They could hardly see anything.

Erik led her by the cloak towards the orchestra pit. Christine asked him what he were doing and he quietly explained that they were going to learn the architecture of the opera populaire.

Christine and Erik wandered the Paris opera house like fanatics for most of the night. Often Christine would need to ask Erik what it was that he saw and was often amazed by what he described. They entered many different halls and often Christine worried that they would get lost. However, Erik always seemed sure of where he was going. She almost hoped that they would get lost at one point, just out of curiosity of seeing what Erik's reaction might be.

Erik's vision was flooded with the splendor of the Opera populaire. Often he found himself staring off into the long and grand hallways of the opera house until Christine asked if he was still at her side.

"There must be a lower level," Erik thought out loud to Christine.

"Where might we find this lower level? And why would you want to find a lower level? It is most likely uninhabitable. It might be a dangerous trek." It was when he remained silent that Christine thought about his words. Why else would he want to seek out the lower levels of the opera house if not to see what lurked there, if not to see its possibilities? "Are you proposing that we stay underground?"

"It will not be harmful," he stated firmly.

Her eyes bulged, "have you lost your senses Erik? It will do us no good to live underground. Consider the dangers that may lie there! There will be nothing but darkness and stone!"

"It is better than living on the street," he said bleakly, turning and staring down at her as she searched him out in the dark, "at the very least living underground will not run us the risk of death under the hands of strangers or worse," it occurred to him that she did not have to remain with him if it was not her wish. He had been speaking as if though that was how things were going to be, he corrected the mistake, "if you wish to remain on the cold streets of Paris than you may. But if I find that there is something in this opera house that may be suitable conditions for me than I will be staying here."

Christine blinked into the dark with shock. He sounded so bleak.

It seemed that Erik sensed that she had resigned because he began pulling her down the long hallway and then up a spiraling staircase. They came to a stop before a door that Erik pushed open easily. In the room he spied a desk and more prominently a large window behind it.

Carefully Erik walked over the table and began opening drawers, searching for something unknown to Christine.

"What is it that you are looking for Erik?"

He did not respond as he was transfixed with the he was doing. Sometimes, he'd look up to Christine and look back down. He found that she was staring at him with such a complete trust that it was overwhelming. He had to find it, he did not want to see her disappoint if he did not. He distracted her with a question, "do you plan to stay Christine?"

A long moment of silence transpired, "of course Erik," the softness of her voice made him raise his eyes. She was staring at him so gently that it made him ball his hands into fist, "of course I will stay with you."

"That is good Christine," he murmured quietly. In truth, he did want her to stay, he had grown somewhat used to her and as much as he hated it the curiosity of how she was doing - should she had chosen to not stay with him - would drive him mad. But it seemed that that would not be the case, and then to make matters better - he found what he was looking for.

He pulled it out of the drawer and shut it quietly. Christine, aided by the faint moonlight streaming from the window made her way over to him and looked down at the large sheet of paper he was smoothing out so cautiously.

In front of them lay a map of the opera populaire. A small smirk built its way to Christine's lip.

Erik rested one long finger on a specific area, "and there is our underground home."

* * *

**:O They found home! Well yay for them! And yay Erik wants Christine to stay, and she wants to say, so things are looking up! :) And yes we shall see some de Chagny's very, very soon. :) Review!**


	18. Suspicious

**Chapter XVIII**

Erik and Christine did not venture into the depths of the opera house. It seemed to them that soon the sun would rise and rather than be stuck there they would much rather return somewhere else for the night.

Erik could tell that Christine was tired, she was trying hard to not drag her feet across the cement and thereby ruin the shoes. Her eyes were droopy and locked on the ground as she tried to keep herself from stumbling. He, on the other hand was excited. He could hardly keep his mind from running wild with ideas. He had taken the maps, and whether or not the opera house managers would notice did not concern him. He knew the layout of the opera house in and out now, and more importantly they had graphed out the lower levels. Clearly it was uncharted territory by the look of the designs on the map. There was even a lake of some sort by the small notes taken. And many tunnels, it was perfect. Exactly what he needed.

Christine and Erik made it to the flat in no time at all, once again they entered and Christine trudged to the corner of the room as Erik settled in the center and spread out the maps of the opera house in front of him. She knew that he would be at it all night, and because of this she did not bother to ask him to get some rest. After all, it was she who would need it as she who had to be at the de Chagny home in a matter of hours.

**…**

Erik was uneasy as Christine woke up tiredly. The idea of her working in this home did not sit well with him for many reasons. The first being that he did not trust their intentions. It seemed too convenient to him that this man should suddenly offer her a job.

_The elite of all societies are nothing but pompous slave drivers, _Erik thought as Christine did her best to look presentable. It was a matter of tucking her ragged shirt into the waist band of her oversized pants and flattening her hair with her hands. She viciously rubbed her lips against her hand as if to wipe of any grime or dirt but it only served to make them look red and swollen.

"I will return when I am able," Christine said as she reached down for her cloak and flung it around her shoulders, "you understand of course that if you must leave this establishment then you ought to return to the pub just across the street."

He nodded quietly and followed her towards the stairs. Christine did not notice that Erik was following her until she became aware of his footsteps. She stopped and turned around with an uneasy gaze, he just kept his eyes trained on her.

"What are you doing, Erik?" She laughed shakily.

His amber eyes narrowed the slightest bit, "if you do not return at a reasonable hour I will be forced to seek you out."

"You do not have to do that," Christine tightened the cloak around her small form and bit her lip, "I will be fine… I am certain that they will not release me at an hour that would be dangerous for a man _or_ a woman."

"The elite do not care for your wellbeing Christine," he informed her, _such naivety even after years of delinquency, _"do not count on them to be accommodating if it comes to when your work hours begin and end. They want you to work for them and they can get this same job done by anyone else. If something should happen to you it will mean very little to them."

She blinked up at him, almost hurt by his words but knowing that she had no reason to be. They were not meant to insult her. He would not do that, right? But it still made her feel horribly small, insignificant as if her life meant nothing at all to anyone.

"Do you understand?" He tightened his fingers behind his back and hardened his jaw, the white mask gleamed down at her.

"Yes Erik," she mumbled softly.

"Good. If you are released at night then wait until I arrive to fetch you-

"I have walked home-" there was that word again, "— _here_ on my own before Erik, I am not a child."

He didn't seem to hear her as he continued to stare down at her. The blue had hardened at him, he knew that she meant it. She did not want to be treated like a child, and it was bothering him that he was taking such an imprudent interest in her wellbeing. Now irritated he nodded once sharply, "then I will not come for you. Farewell."

"Goodbye," she sighed and stepped out into the darkness, instantly taking off to the main streets – hoping that the sun would rise soon so that she might begin inquiring as to the location of the de Chagny home.

**…**

All she had to do was ask _one_ stranger passing by if he was aware of where the de Chagny mansion was for her to find out the address. It would have seemed strange to her but when she actually arrived in front of the home she realized something else. Of course she could ask essentially _anyone_ off the streets where it was that Monsieur de Chagny resided – the home was a mansion!

Just stopping outside of the gated fence made her almost sick to her stomach. It was ridiculously beautiful, almost inappropriately so. Even from where she stood she felt as if though she wanted to drop to her knees and weep at the beauty, the splendor and the outrageousness of it all. It was embarrassing that this family could afford something so lavish and she could hardly afford an apple. It was sickening and angering!

The home itself was tall. It had many windows with shiny glass panes and white borders. The house seemed to be constructed out of a soft beige material and there were two beautiful sets of stairs on either side of the round courtyard that led to two doors. There was an opening which led to a second courtyard. The home had three different floors and greenery around the rotund shape. All the bushes were perfectly trimmed and green. It was not even the time of year for such plants!

Christine shook her head with dismay. The place was very unsettling. It made her feel uncomfortable just to be in front of the home. _This place will make me rabid with envy, no one must live like this. But perhaps they have earned such a privilege? No matter, I cannot be here another moment. _Quickly Christine turned around and took a step forward, only to cry out and fall to the ground.

Staring down at her was a tall blonde youth, his eyes held what she thought to be shock. He wore a beautiful black suit with golden colored velvet lining. It appeared to be velvet at least.

"What are you doing in front of my home, lad?" the male addressed her kindly, an amused smile playing at his lips. His eyes glittered hazel and he had a very lean physique.

"I-I," what did she say? Who was this gentleman? Perhaps the son of the man who she had spoken to on the street? Christine jumped up to her feet and ducked her gaze, "I was only looking around… sir."

"Oh come now, has my father spoken to you?" He laughed, "are you the young boy we were expecting? Yes, by the looks of it you must be," he looked her over once with a look akin to discomfort, "come, we must get you acquainted with the staff if you are going to be working here. It is quite a pity that you should have arrived so early, you might have missed my dunce of a brother, but no matter, hopefully we will avoid him altogether."

Christine bit her lip to not laugh. Perhaps he was testing her to see if she would be disrespectful. Quietly he opened the gate door and entered the premises quietly. Christine followed him into the courtyard, trying to not pry with her eyes but finding it almost impossible. Everything was so beautiful, and she was out of place. He looked like he belonged there. Even his stride was that of someone far above her. He did not stop for a moment to even look to see if she was behind him, he assumed that she had followed.

"My name is Philippe de Chagny, and you are?"

"Gregor," she stated, remembering to deepen her voice, "Gregor, sir."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Gregor," Philippe smiled and then looked back to her, "we must get you out of those rags."

She almost flinched with embarrassment.

Philippe then directed her into the opening that led into the second courtyard she had spied, this yard was also round except it had only one door, and it had a fountain in the center. She eyeballed it cautiously, noticing that it was a marble statue of a weeping angel. She tried to not stare at it too long and then went into the home, following behind Philippe and ignoring the lavish door.

The inside was almost an eyesore.

There was white and gold colors everywhere she looked. Everything was silent except for the few maids she spied walking about. Some stared at her and some ignored her altogether but they all greeted Philippe de Changny with a deep curtsy and a bright smile, he flirted back with them with beautiful smiles and then led her up the long staircase made of what appeared to be white stones that glittered.

"There are four of us," Philippe explained to 'Gregor' as they moved up the staircase, "there is my father, the head of the family, and my mother the vicomtesse. I am the older brother and my younger brother is named Raoul. I sincerely hope you do not encounter him, he is quite a nuisance," once they arrived at the second floor of the home he moved to the left and down a long white hallway with windows on the right side. She could see yet another courtyard where women were laying down flowers and arranging them into beautiful patterns, "a word of advice as you speak to my father, always address him as Sir, or Monsieur, and never stare at him for too long."

Christine nodded, and then murmured a soft, "yes, sir."

Philippe led her into a door of mahogany wood without knocking. Unsurely she remained on the outside of the room, waiting until she was invited in as his father raised his eyes from a sheet of paper and looked up at her, there was another man in the room who turned to look at them.

"Good day gentlemen," Philippe smiled brightly, "I found a wanderer outside and assumed it was the young man whom you were warning me to keep a lookout for."

"I did not warn _you_, Philippe," His father scowled, "I told the _maids_. You were chasing skirts once again and overheard from wherever you were hiding."

Philippe blushed and grinned unashamed, "if you would quit hiring such pretty women I would not linger so much."

Philippe's father rolled his eyes and then stood from where he sat, eyeballing Christine, "step inside boy."

Quietly she moved within the room, trying hard to make herself invisible.

"You are quite early," he said with a squinted stare, "you did not follow my instructions."

"Forgive me sir," she lowered her head, not looking at him any longer, "I only wanted to be certain that I found your home."

The man chuckled and she raised her gaze, "no worries lad, it is all well. I do not like it when people are tardy. It is good that you are here so early. Now come closer, we must discuss your earnings." Christine moved past Philippe with a shy smile and did not dare to look at the man on the chair who was clearly so disinterested in her that he dropped his gaze to a book on his lap.

"Now," Monsieur de Chagny began, "if you are to work for me I want you to bring me messages and run my errands. Can you do that boy?"

"Of course, sir," she nodded.

"You will work for me from Mondays to Saturdays, Sundays you may have to yourself. I will pay you two francs every two days. You must either accept it or leave if this is an unsatisfactory amount."

Christine nodded frivolously, not in any position to demand more, "yes sir, thank you."

He smiled at her and stroked his white mustache, "well, your job starts now. You will be released each night at an hour of my choosing. Is that understood?"

Christine nodded quietly. Erik might not be very pleased about that, _why should it matter? It is I who am working._

"Can you write?"

"Yes, "she nodded.

"And read?"

"Yes."

"Perfect!" He smiled and slid her a piece of paper and a fountain pen, "take a seat on the floor, I will not have you dirtying the chairs, we must also get you some new clothing, those rags are not suitable for a boy working under the de Chagny household."

Christine ducked her eyes from him, embarrassed. Her stomach tightened and she shakily took the paper and the fountain pen. He handed her the ink carefully and she settled down to the floor, looking up at them all with embarrassment. The man in the chair seemed to be trembling with repressed laughter.

"I wish you to write a letter for me. My hands have gone numb and I am quite tired of writing," Philippe's father explained. She looked down at the piece of paper and noticed that only three sentences were written out.

"I must be going now," the man in the chair stated firmly, almost with annoyance now. He came to a stand and Christine looked up at him as he faced Monsieur de Chagny, "I will return sometime tomorrow."

"Good day then," the man stated, completely unaware of the man's obvious annoyance. Philippe bid him farewell and then the man turned to look down at Christine for the first time.

He had his dark hair in a ponytail. He also had a hard brow bone and a handsome jaw. His skin was deep brown and his eyes were as black as the night, a soft smile played at his full lips as he leaned down carefully to speak to Christine whose eyes widened with surprise.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, _Gregor_."

Unsure of what to say Christine nodded, her throat had gone dry. Who was this man? And why did he say her name that way?

He straightened up and walked out of the room… it wasn't difficult for Christine to guess that the man was suspicious of her.

* * *

**O_O uh oh.. well thats not good. Well hopefully he isn't too suspicious right? Well lets see!**


	19. Saviors

**Chapter XIX**

Christine worked the entire day under the intense scrutiny of Philippe's father. The man did not let her out of his sight for very long, making sure that she did everything exactly right. All day Christine wrote letters. Truthfully, by the tenth letter her mind had blocked out all meaning of the words and she was simply writing mindlessly, listening to the words and scribbling them down without thinking twice.

Monsieur de Chagny came to a pause only when it was time to eat. He kindly allowed Christine, or 'Gregor', some food as well but not very much, admitting that it would be rather strange for him to feed her as much as he eats as it would be a sign of too nice, but true to the times and status of him. Christine smiled gratefully nonetheless and bit as politely as she could into the bread he had handed her. Admittedly it was with a bit of guilt as she knew that Erik would not have this food.

When the sun had fallen Monsieur de Chagny grew tired and stood from his chair where he had been sitting for most of the day. With a stretch and a yawn he smiled at Christine as she finished the last sentence.

"Go home now Gregor, you have done enough writing. Ensure that you are dressed in better rags come tomorrow. Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sack, her eyes widened, "I expect you to return to me dressed in clothes fit for someone living in my establishment."

'Sir—

"Here," he interrupted her without pause and threw the sack of coins almost lazily. Christine's eyes widened as it bounced off her arm and she caught it, "new shoes, a cravat, new everything. That clothing is hardly appropriate for someone of even your class."

"Sir," Christine held the weighty pouch in her hand out as she came to a stand, trying her best to not show how offended she was by the comment, "I cannot-

"You will or else you will not be under my employment anymore, is that what you want?" His eyes sharpened and narrowed, "I expect you to return to me dressed in clothing that is appropriate. That is the last of the conversation, are we understood?"

Christine's eyes widened and she nodded quickly, tightening her hand around the small pouch and wincing at the paint in her fingers. She had not stopped writing for more than an hour that day. She was certain her fingers were swollen but she had never bothered to look down at her hand to really look.

"Go on home now boy," Monsieur de Chagny smiled kindly, "return tomorrow in the morning."

"Good evening sir, thank you."

Christine hastily made her way to the exit of the office and began to make her way down the hall.

What a strange first day it had been.

First she had met Philippe de Chagny who was intriguing in how strangely childish he was, and she had met the strange man with the dark eyes and the disturbingly attentive gaze. Certainly he knew that she was not in fact male. But would he tell? He could have if he wanted to, and there would be absolutely no reason as to why he should spare her the embarrassment of being caught in the lie. So, why had he not simply revealed what he seemed to know? _Erik said that they do not care for individuals like he and I. We are nothing to them… _But perhaps Erik was wrong?

Christine paid this no attention and began making her way down the stairs. Throughout the house there was nothing but silence except for the sound of plates in the kitchen. Perhaps the ladies were cooking something?

"Gregor!" Philippe's voice came from behind her and she whirled around instantly, at attention. He was jogging down the stairs with a grin plastered on his face , "are you on your way out the door?"

"Yes, sir, Monseiur de Chagny has given me leave."

"Ah, finally," he laughed somewhat and then stopped on the last step in front of her, "here, come with me."

Christine did not dare refuse and followed him as he led her down the stairs. They traveled past a large dining room with painted images of scenery and landscapes before they entered a kitchen in which one woman stood moving plates from one side of the room to a counter on the other.

Philippe grinned charmingly and walked to where the woman was standing, "what do you have for us this evening?" He asked the female.

"Corn bread, cold bread, frizzled beef, stewed fruits, and soused calves' feet, Sir," she answered with a thick accent that sounded foreign to her ears. His skin was dark and he had the strangest colored eyes Christine had ever seen, they were both green and brown, her eyes moved over to her and narrowed slightly. It made her youthful face look stern and stony, "I have not seen you here before boy, may I ask your name?"

"Gregor," she answered meekly, eyeballing Philippe who was gathering a bunch of foods and putting them into a basket.

"A pleasure," the woman smiled and eyeballed Philippe warily as he grabbed more than enough food and then threw a simple towel over the top of the woven basket before handing it to Christine, who in her shock could only hold it away from her body as it if did not belong there, because it didn't.

"Take it," Philippe encouraged, "my father often forgets that you too must eat."

"He fed me, sir," She murmured, trying to not let her mouth water over the scent wafting up from the basket. _This could be for Erik… I should not behave ungratefully, _she raised her head, "thank you, I am eternally grateful."

"You are very welcome Gregor," Philippe smiled. The youthful dark skinned woman smiled in Philippe's direction and he looked to her and flashed her a grin that was much too coy to be innocent. Christine stared suspiciously as the woman ducked her gaze from him shyly.

"I must get going now Gregor, allow me to walk you to the door." Philippe said in a sudden rush, the woman rolled her eyes. He wants to get back and have roll on the kitchen floor with her, don't he?

Christine nodded and smiled kindly at the lady before following Philippe out, who was clearly only hurrying her out so that he might go back to the foreign woman.

Philippe led Christine out to the front gate and waved at her when she was beyond it and looking back at him. He instantly disappeared back towards the home and she knew that he was going to search for the woman. _Is he flirting with that woman? Would his father not be angry with him, especially because she is not a woman of this country, a white woman? _Christine thought about that for a moment. Then her thoughts went to Erik. Erik did not look like anyone she knew, he hid something beneath his mask, and he was strange even in his body. He was thin, and yet there was an imposing attitude to him. He was an outcast, just like that woman, and just like that woman he was looked down upon. Yet, it seemed Philippe saw past this.

"What a strange family," Christine murmured to herself, holding the basket closer, "they are nothing like what Erik describe the elite to be. They are kind," she rolled her eyes then, "but of course he is judgmental. Erik strangely believes himself to be more intelligent then everyone. He too is strange." She paused, "but I am speaking out loud to myself, perhaps I am too."

She hoped that he would like the food. She had not expected Philippe to be so kind as to offer her so much. His father had the same gracious attitude. She wanted to know if it was a trait that belonged to all the de Chagny and yet she had not caught sight of Raoul or of his mother. She had once glimpsed a portrait of the vicomtesse but it was only a hint as they passed a study with an open door. She was a woman of blonde hair, blue hazel eyes, and a fair complexion. A beautiful woman by any means. The likeness to Philippe's feature's was the indicator that that was in fact his mother.

Christine began to hum a soft tune as she walked down the empty streets, thinking about Erik. Was he at all interested in a woman's outer appearance? She had not heard him mention anything that would make her believe in any sense that he cared for women at all. He seemed rather opposed to any sort of contact with individuals. _Does he not care for affection? Or has his heart grown so cold that not even the warmest of arms cannot melt the ice that surrounds it?_

Footsteps sounded behind Christine.

At first they were far away, but as she slowly turned her face slightly to look behind her they picked up.

Her eyes narrowed in on a dark form coming towards her from down the street, and not just one, but two. Then suddenly they were coming after her at full speed.

_No, no._

Instantly Christine broke into a run.

She was not an idiot. She knew what it meant when there were people walking behind her at this time of night.

Christine's feet came down on the cement with a hard stomp as she darted through the street. Her arms tightened around the basket as she did her best to keep a tight hold of the food. Her hair blew out into the wind and she clutched at her cloak tightly by tightening her arms into her sides at the same time.

Behind her they laughed as she began to turn a corner, gasping wildly for air. Suddenly all airflow was cut off as she barreled into the arm of a boy.

She instantly went crashing to the floor. Her back hit the cold cement with a slap and the basket went tumbling to the ground.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice laughed from behind her as she made a scramble to stand, "look who it is!"

One of the delinquents grabbed Christine around the arm and pulled her angrily against a wall. Her heart was drumming so loud that she could hardly pick up their words. She was too busy observing them. Looking for the one who had spoken and when she found him all the air rushed out of her lungs.

_No…_

"See," the boy grinned, flashing his dirty teeth, "I knew you remembered me." Of course she remembered him, he was the one who had attempted to steal from her in the street, the one who she had so viciously pinned to the ground. Except now he had two friends with him and they were just as menacing. He was the smallest of them all but he was also the most deranged in appearance. His hair was all over the place and his eyes were like pits of the most hellish fire.

"What have ye' got 'ere?" One of his friend muttered and stooped down. Before he could grab the basket Christine's fist flew out and landed with a hard thud on his temple. He cried out and Christine leapt to the left and viciously flew at the other one.

"Get him off of me!" The male cried as she brought her knees into his groin, making him crumple to his knees. She was about to hit him with another sickening crunch but she was suddenly hauled up off of him by tight arms that threw her down to the ground with such a force that she cried out as she caught herself on her swollen fingers.

"You little –

"Stay away from me!" Christine shrieked with rage and rolled onto her back and kicked one of them in the shins as they came at her again. She kicked wildly and struggled as she crawled backwards against the brick wall. The one with the green shirt grabbed her viciously around the hair and tugged her up and off her feet. She could hear strands ripping themselves out of her scalp

With an awful sound he slammed her head back against the brick wall once.

The sound exploded throughout her head and lights burst into her vision and he let her fall into one heap to the ground. _I am going to die, _Christine realized as she felt a blow to her cheek. It made her groan and she instantly brought her arms up, covering her head to the best of her ability as they punched her anywhere they could reach.

"Please, please stop!"

"You thought you were going to get away with such a thing?!" One of them yelled at her, "you stupid wretch!" A hard kick made her gasp as the foot smashed itself once, twice, three times, and then two more times into her stomach.

"Give me those," someone stated angrily and grabbed her ankles. Christine weakly protested as she felt the shoes being pulled off of her ankles. _No, no, no, Erik gave me those._

"Please," Christine willed the tears back as she opened her eyes and tried to see. They had pulled off her shoes and were analyzing them cryptically. Slowly, sluggishly, she pulled herself up to her backside, with an arm wrapped around her midsection, "please give them to me—

"Shut your mouth!" The leader slapped her once and she gave a hard cry as his nails scraped her cheek in the process, "you're a little thief who does not even understand that these are shoes for women," he laughed viciously and yanked her hair back, crouching in front of her with a malicious smirk on his face, "you embarrassed me boy."

Her eyes watered and the blue became a sea of tears. _I have failed you Erik. _"Please, do not harm me-

"_Please do not harm me_," they mocked her and laughed as they grabbed the basket up and the leader remained poised in front of her. His brown eyes softened, "I will not harm you."

Christine swallowed the blood in her mouth and did not break eye contact.

"I will not," he promised and released her hair, as if he had suddenly come to an epiphany. She released a hard breath as he backed away from her. His friends stared at him with confusion. Christine drew her knees tightly to her chest and held in any sobs she might have had.

"Never cross me," he warned her. Christine nodded quickly, eager to have them gone.

With a final laugh the male made his way back down the street with his friends and turned the corner they were near.

A few moments of silence passed and Christine released a ragged breath and tried to not move for a long moment. Trying to analyze where it was that she felt the pain. It was all in her stomach, and in her face and the back of her head.

Tentatively her shaking hand rose to the back of her head as she felt for the wound. All she could feel was her matted withering hair and the blood leaking from the back of her head. Christine released a whimper and slowly rose onto her bare feet, flinching at the familiarity of the stones beneath her toes. They had taken her shoes…

Christine covered her face with both hands and released a soft cry. They had taken the food that she was going to bring Erik.

Suddenly, from out of the darkness a figure emerged and she gave a sharp cry as pain exploded in her cheek.

Christine fell to the ground and suddenly the wildest sort of pain shot through her hand.

It took her a moment to register what had happened. But when she looked down at her hand where the pain was coming from she realized that they were back. Or that the leader was back and he was brutally stomping on her swollen fingers.

"No! No!" She wailed as he laughed and jumped back as she cradled her bleeding fingers to her chest and began rocking back and forth , trying so hard to not cry but failing as she broke out into sobs and ragged breaths. _He said he would leave me alone._

"I lied!" He laughed as if he could hear her thoughts.

He walked to the right towards where her cloak lay. Christine's eyes widened and she weakly rose to her feet again and came at him as he snatched it up off the ground.

"It is mine!" She cried out.

"Shut your mouth!" One of the brutes yelled, taking her hand and squeezing her fingers so hard that she crumpled to her knees as their leader laughed and mockingly swung the cape over his shoulders in one flourish movement.

She was sobbing so hard now that her words were unintelligible, and they were laughing so hard that they couldn't have heard her even if they tried. If they had been able to hear and understand her they would have known that Christine was begging them to please not take the cloak. It was the only thing she had. It was the only remnant of her father. She begged and sobbed through the pain in her mouth and fingers. "Please!"

His friend who she had kneed stepped forward and she shut her eyes when she saw him cock his fist back. It landed against the side of her temple and that was the last thing Christine remembered before she fell prey to the darkness.

* * *

**...O_O UH. OH. WELL THAT'S NOT GOOD. Anyway, thank you all so much for reviewing, I am so sorry if I am not updating quickly. The truth is that lately i have been feeling very dazed. My head feels like it's screwed on backwards and I have been extremely dissociated. But hopefully it goes away soon. :) **

**Review? O_O **


	20. Face down

**Chapter XX**

Erik stood by the window, as still as everything around him. He seemed to become a part of the unchanging environment around him.

She had not returned to him yet. It made him uneasy. More uneasy then he had felt in a long time.

_Could she be on her way at this very moment? _The thought had been running through his head for the past hour… it made him shift over and over as he thought about all the possibilities. Something did not feel right. The Chagny's must have had released her at least an hour ago. There was no reason as to why they would require services from anyone at this hour of the night.

Without any further wait Erik moved away from the window and began making his way out of the flat. Would he comb the streets for her? _It would be best that I stay here. Should I leave and she return it would cause more confusion than is necessary._

But he could not bring himself to do that. Standing there helplessly made him feel on par with being useless. With that thought he made his way out of the complex and to the sidewalk.

The night air was frigid. It made his skin prickle and his hairs stand on end. Furthermore the winds were not stirring, giving everything an eerie stillness. _It seems the weather is trying to set a mood for this most uncomfortable predicament, _he mused.

He decided to turn down the street she had told him she would take to get to the Chagny home, hoping to encounter her somewhere along the way.

…

The man walked absentmindedly through the streets. It was often considered dangerous to walk through this city at night, but sitting at home made him restless. He had made some poor attempts to fall asleep, but found himself unable to. Besides, he could defend himself if needs be.

His dark eyes combed the streets quietly as he strolled, always searching for any signs of danger. The streets were horribly silent however, and it made for a strange paranoia to settle in his stomach, despite the fact that it should have made him feel better.

His ears picked up what sounded like boys. He could tell that were young by their rowdy laughs. They emerged laughing from down the street and crossing onto the other side of the road. They all held different things, one held what appeared to be a cloak, another a basket of fruits, and the other shoes. _They have no doubt stolen them, _he did not care, knowing that they were children with necessities.

Continuing on his way he turned the corner that the males had emerged out of.

It was as he was about to pass another corner that he picked up from his peripheral vision what looked like a huddled form on the ground.

He stopped walking and turned so that his body faced in its direction.

When he squinted it became clearer and his horror increased tenfold. It was a small person. The arms were bare, and there was a small pool of blood on the concrete beneath the brunette head.

Instantly he ran towards the form, noticing how it lay completely still. His footsteps sounded as he jogged towards the person, wondering who was at fault for this. _Certainly those boys! They had come this way!_ His heart picked up speed as he knelt beside the small form. His heart dropped further when he noticed the horrible bruising at the pale face.

"You are just a child," he acknowledged shakily, "can you hear me?"

Christine's eyeballs twitched behind her lids at the sound of the voice… it was familiar…

"Erik?" She whispered softly, and made an attempt to open her eyes. The throbbing at the back of her head intensified as she tried. Only one eye opened, but it did nothing to make things clearer. Everything was blurry, and the figure in front of her was no exception. No, this was not Erik, this figure was too broad of the shoulder.

"No, my name is Nadir Khan," the voice responded, "what is your name?"

"Christine," she whimpered, the pain in her jaw was stinging, "my name is—

"Shh," the man hushed her gently and she groaned as she tried to sit up, "don't speak or move, you are clearly in pain."

**…**

Erik had been walking for the past ten minutes with no sign of Christine anywhere. It was beginning to irk him to the point of anger. _Where could she be? _He thought, acknowledging that Christine had told him that she could take care of herself. But clearly this was not the case. He knew something was wrong.

_I should not have let her out of my sight. She is too stubborn for her own good. It shows in everything she does. She believes herself to be invincible or something or the sort! _

Erik stopped walking when he spied a form at the end of the street. There were two people, one was laying on the floor, and the other was hovering over the other. It was as the man lifted the petite person into a sitting position that he realized who it was.

Erik's hands went into claws as he noticed blood on the grimy shirt. Despite the darkness he could see the overwhelming stains that made the shirt black in some places. His sharpened vision narrowed in on a strange discoloration on what he knew was Christine's face.

His feet were already carrying him over to them. Who was that man? And why was he touching her? _And what do I do if he did? Kill him, yes… kill him. _

"I must stop your bleeding," the man was saying hurriedly, "your wounds are exten-"he never had the chance to finish his statement.

He was pressed up violently against a wall. His windpipe was cut off as a hard arm lodged itself against his throat. Two amber eyes glowed up at him as he grabbed at the arm and struggled for breath. _Is that a mask? _He shouted in his thoughts, confused at the sight.

"What did you do?" The man glared at him, his voice rumbled with vicious undertones. It left no room for relief. This man would kill him, he knew it.

"R-release me!" The other croaked out as he pushed at the arm, doing his best to relieve the pressure at his throat.

"What have you done?" the masked male repeated, crushing his windpipe further by leaning forward onto the balls of his feet, placing all his weight on the arm that crushed this man's throat.

"Erik?"

The sound came weakly and for a moment it seemed that the masked man froze. He stood there for only a second after and then he was on his knees before the figure on the ground.

Erik shuddered at the sight of Christine's face. Her usually wide blue eyes were swollen shut and it seemed to him that she was trying to open them but was having difficulty.

"Christine?" he murmured and touched her shoulder where her shirt was ripped, she flinched and he removed his hand quickly, "we must get you medical attention."

"They took everything," Christine's voice cracked and her face twisted in a mask of pain, "they took my shoes," her whimper peeved him. That was not how Christine spoke, her voice was soft, not broken. And as she lay there, curled up, he wanted nothing then to lift her to her feet. He had never seen anyone like this. So small, and terribly shaken.

_If I were here none of this would have happened. Those damn de Chagny's. They have no concern for anyone. If they had any bit of common sense they would know better!_

"They?" He looked up and glared at the dark skinned man, "who Christine?"

"They went away," she breathed, "I'm so sorry Erik-

"Stop that!" He snapped at her, glaring as she struggled to open her eyes, "this was not any fault of yours."

"They took everything," she cried softly, "everything..."

"Hush now," Erik looked her over once more as she trembled and tried to control her sobs. They sounded like little gasps.

"It's so cold—and my cloak… oh father." Christine said. A hard shiver went through her. Her face twisted up in pain and Erik open his mouth to say something. Then she went completely still. Erik's limbs locked.

He hesitantly touched her again, she didn't not flinch…_Has she fainted? _"Christine?"

Behind him the man's footsteps sounded. He had completely forgotten of his presence. _Damn! _

"I am well versed in how to treat injuries," the man spoke from behind them. Erik stiffened at the sound of his voice, "allow me to bring her to my home and I will help her. You must trust me when I say that if you do not let me she will die from blood loss."

"You will not touch her," Erik muttered and cautiously slid an arm underneath her knees and steeled his will as he slid the other behind her shoulders. In one fluid motion he came to a stand, bothered by her slight weight. Christine's face rolled to him and he almost winced at the sight of the bruise.

The extreme contact was making Erik jittery. He was all too aware of the fact that she need to be treated, and the fact that the man was staring at him, trying to not gawk. Her small body was to light in his arms and it only reinforced the fact that Christine was severely malnourished. He felt as if though he were on a sensory high. His yes kept darting to the man and down the street as if the one's who had attacked her might pop forth yet again. He would strangle them. He was certain of it. But for now he needed to treat her. But still his thoughts ran rampant with thoughts of violence. He hoped he found those vile creatures. He would decimate every bone in their body until they could not breathe or walk.

"What do you intend to do?" The dark eyed man asked, shakily stepping forward and steeling his will as the amber eyed male looked in his direction, "do you know how to treat injuries like this? I doubt you do. Clearly the girl is poor. I assume you two live with one another, am I wrong?" When Erik did not respond he continued, "come with me to my home, I can offer you both shelter for the night and she may sleep in a warm room where her wounds will be treated."

"I can do it myself."

"With what supplies?"

Erik felt Christine stir slightly in his grip and he loosened it, not realizing how painful his hold must have been. It was strange to hold her this way, and with that in mind he awkwardly held her slightly away from his midsection. _Stupid girl!_

"Come, my name is Nadir," the man croaked, rubbing his throat carefully and walking away, anticipating that Erik would follow. When he looked behind him and saw the male still standing in place he released a hard sigh, "I promise no harm will come to you or the girl. I am simply trying to help her. I doubt you have the resources to do so Follow me and I promise you that she will be better come the morning, and perhaps we will find out who it was that hurt her so. She could have broken bones, do you wish to wait to find out? When she wakes and is screaming?"

_Damn him. _Erik began a slow walk towards the man, casting him a warning stare. The man, who was clearly hiding an accent, gave him a shaky nod and quickly began a hurried walk towards his home.

**…**

Nadir approached the door to his flat and quietly unlocked the door. Behind him the masked male stopped and observed the inside of the place from the entrance of the house. Christine depended on him, and that fact made him more paranoid about this.

"Come inside," Nadir encouraged shakily, unsure if he really wanted the skeletal male to enter at all, "it is safe."

Silently he stepped inside and onto the rugged floor, Nadir shut the door and then led him through the dark past a chimney and a few chairs to very narrow set of wooden stairs. Erik minded his step and was forced to press Christine's immobile body closer to himself lest she should get further injured by the bannister of the staircase.

"This way," Nadir instructed kindly and guided Erik, whose golden eyes were roaming carefully over every inch of the hallway.

They passed a few rooms and finally Nadir pushed opened a wooden door and gestured inside.

Erik spied the bed and waited for permission to lay Christine down as Nadir felt for the lantern and lit it. There was a single window against the same wall that the headboard of the narrow bed was on.

"Lay her down if you will," Nadir pointed to the bed as he moved the lantern nearer and Erik did as instructed.

Christine only released a low breath of discomfort as her bloody scalp came into contact with the pillow. The fabric stuck to her matted hair and Erik tried not to lift her up back up against him, knowing that she needed to be looked at. With that thought he backed up from her… suddenly wary of the urge to remain at her side. _The girl is like a virus._

"Roll her onto her side if you'd be so kind, I must fetch my supplies, and also remove her shirt." Nadir instructed, leaving the room and missing Erik's suddenly outraged expression.

_The man is mad! I will not do that. I cannot do that. That is outrageous! _He was fuming. _Does he think I will defile her? _

"_Erik…" _Christine's weak tone dragged him back to reality and he noticed her grimace, "Erik?"

"Yes?" his voice slithered out and she breathed a weak sigh of relief, he noticed it because it seemed her body deflated.

"It hurts…"

"Yes Christine… I understand." _Damn that man! _

Erik stepped forward and carefully observed Christine as she lost consciousness yet again. She was losing blood and certainly that must have been the reason why. Without another thought Erik grasped her shoulder gently and easily rolled her over, ignoring the hiss that left her as he managed to lay her flat on her front side. With tense fingers he grasped her bloody hair and moved it away from her neck, managing to not touch her skin in the process.

Lastly he took hold of the collar of her shirt and began to rip it down the middle, adverting his eyes slightly but still noticing the horribly grotesque form of her spine. It made him swallow with shock. She needed to eat.

Stepping away for her Erik did not dare to look at her skin any more. It did not feel right. And so he waited for the man to return. Yet, his eyes constantly flowed back to her, and so he turned away. _This traitorous body of mine… _he cursed it to hell. Christine was helpless, and yet his body seemed to want to look at her a while longer. Oh, how he hated himself. Even if he allowed his eyes to gaze upon her corpse like body, what made him think that a woman such as herself would ever want a thing like him?

_Why do I want her to want me? Is that what I want? Or only to have her for myself? No, no, no. I must not think this way. If I think on it too much I will think it into existence. _He decided he would from there on out and disregard Christine's allure. Her eyes would no longer have the sky fixated in them, if not they would be as blue as rotten blueberries, or as dim as a cloudy sky… yes... that was better.

Erik almost breathed a sigh of relief when Nadir ran back into the room. The man was instantly at Christine's side, and Erik, once again, found himself watching the man. Making sure he touched only where he must.

When Nadir grabbed a towel and began to lower it towards Christine's head Erik stiffened. Not because he knew it would hurt her, but the whimper she emitted struck him to his very core.

"No, no," she mewled softly, inching away from it until Nadir pressed back on her forehead so that she would not move her head away.

"Christine," Nadir spoke her name in soft tones, having listened to the reverence with which the one named Erik said it, "you must stay very still. You are very hurt. Do you understand me?"

She did not respond, and Erik guessed she was no longer awake. He shifted with discomfort. Then the tense silence was pierced.

Nadir reached for Christine's right hand grasped it gently.

A hard scream ripped through the room. Erik's ears rang and Nadir dropped her hand.

Christine made a move to sluggishly stand but Nadir moved forward with more speed then he thought he had in himself and pressed his hand against her back firmly, keeping her down.

"You!" Nadir turned his head to Erik whose eyes were as wide as plates, "take her hand at the wrist and make sure that she does not apply pressure to her fingers. Now!"

Erik fluidly came to Nadir's aid and pressed down on Christine's wrist, blocking out her whimpers and her mewled protests as best as he could.

"Erik what are you doing to me?!" She cried. He caught sight of the tears welling and mixing with the blood on her face.

He had never taken notice of her hand, but now that he looked at it a fire like he had only known when he had been under captivity began to burn in his stomach. They were swollen, much too swollen to not have been fractured. Her nails were cracked and he noticed blood at each knuckle. He released a sharp curse and Nadir gently murmured soothing words to Christine, promising her that he would do his best to not cause her pain.

"Relax Christine," Erik tried to keep his voice even.

"Please stop-stop-

"What hurts?" Nadir asked, looking at her hand with worry.

"Everything, my hand. It all hurts," she choked out and Nadir reached for something on the floor that he had brought in. Erik did not notice until Nadir murmured, "drink it Christine it will help you."

"No-no-

"What is that?" Erik hissed sharply, turning his head to look as Nadir pressed the vial to her chapped lips. "Take that concoction away and tell me what it is."

"It is laudanum," Nadir explained, ignoring the spilled bits that went onto the floor as Christine struggled to take it in while laying facedown, "it will induce sleep and alleviate pain."

Erik did not respond and eyed Christine as she drank the last bit of it. It took a few minutes for it to take effect, but when it did Erik noticed the slacking of her body almost instantly, and then quickly removed his hands from her as if her skin burned him.

"You may step out if you wish," Nadir murmured, working to clear the area where her head wound was, he raised his eyes to the masked man, wondering what hid behind it, and afraid to find out, "I will be out as soon as I am able."

"I will stay," Erik retorted snappily, leaning against the corner of the farthest wall and staring at Nadir, challenging him to make the wrong move on her unconscious form, daring him to remove him from her side.

* * *

**o_o Aww no Christine! I'm so sorry that I had to do that to you. But... it had to be done.**

**Anyway, I would really like to know what you all thought :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thank you to FP33 for always been my beta reader :) We have the coolest little back and forth system haha! Anyway, thank you all for reading and reviewing So, have any of YOU ever broken any bones? O_o How did it feel? Hey and if you broke them on other people - tell me about that as well XD **


	21. Awake

Chapter XXI

When Nadir was done checking on Christine he left the room and shut the door behind him, bidding Erik goodnight and trying to not stare at the mask. As expected Erik did not respond and it was only when he and Christine were completely alone that he moved from the corner of the room. He knew that they were forced to stay here for the remainder of the night. It was better than in the streets where he would have no way of helping Christine.

His eyes went back to her swollen fingers and he resisted a wince. They were badly bruised, just like her face. _Did she defend herself at all? _Erik wondered as he analyzed her. _Even if she did – she did not do a very good job, _he noted. Unable to remove his eyes from all the bruises on her. His thoughts very suddenly became violent. He imagined the culprits, black shadowy figures which he beat to death.

The next morning Christine stirred awake. Instantly she was aware of the painful throbbing all over her skin. Her eyes stung, her face felt sore, and her fingers burned. Everything was pain.

What had happened? She tried hard to remember the events but could only remember her own screams and the feelings of knuckles against her body... but where was she now? And...

"Erik?" Christine whispered, very slowly cracking open one of her eyes and trying to see through the blurry film in her sight. She struggled slightly to remember exactly how she had fallen asleep last night. She could remember cool arms cradling her, and Erik's very familiar scent going in and out of her consciousness. His voice too, coupled with another that was familiar and unfamiliar.

"Yes, Christine?" his voice was nearby.

The relief swelled in her chest and for a moment she thought that she might cry. A small smile crept onto her face but she winced. Erik frowned when he noticed. It looked to him more like a grimace. He wondered if his presence annoyed her.

"Erik, where are we?"

"We are in a medic's home, Christine," Erik stepped closer, making his footsteps audible for her, "do you remember the events of last night?"

"Yes," she nodded, and then stiffened as a slight pain threatened to take over her, "sadly."

"No," he disagreed, "it is good that you remember. What happened?"

"I.." she struggled to remember, "I remember... walking home... and then they cam upon me and, well," she gave a dry chuckle that set Erik's hair on edge, "then they beat me. They took all I had and when I thought they were gone they came upon me again."

_If I had been there, _Erik thought, _their legs would be broken. _"Can you recollect their faces should you see them again?"

The thought made her uncomfortable, "I do not want to see them again Erik."

"Then however do you plan on getting revenge for what they have done to you? They have caused you great injury," his voice was sharp at her and he noticed how she frowned, "are you simply going to let it pass by as if they did nothing?"

"They are gone, I will most likely never see them again."

"You do not know that," the sharpness of his tone strengthened and she turned her head very slightly. His form was prominent beside her bed, even if she could hardly see she could make out his tall thin body. "Do you plan to simply let them go."

"They are already gone Erik," she murmured gently and frowned as she made an attempt to sit up without using her throbbing hand. Erik allowed her to rise without protest, clenching his jaw at her stubborn attitude, "what is the time?"

"It is late in the morning."

"Pardon?!" Christine made one swift attempt to stand but found herself slumping back onto the bed as her legs refused to hold her weight, "Erik I am late!"

"Late?"

"The de Chagny's, have you forgotten that I am under their hire?"

"No Christine, I have not." He frowned. _How can it escape my mind that it is because of them that you were out in the street alone? They too are to blame for caring so little about their employee's. Those fops! Their house should be burned down. _

"Do not do that," Christine murmured, looking up at Erik, "I know what you are doing, I can sense it. You blame the de Chagny's Erik, and it is not their fault."

"Of course it is you silly girl!" Erik snapped, "they released you at an inappropriate hour with no escort."

"And if they had perhaps the same would have happened," she replied hotly, "there were four males, Erik. I should be thankful that nothing worse happened to me and that they did not come to the realization that I am a female, otherwise I may not be in front of you at this moment but perhaps in a brothel!"

Erik locked his jaw and clenched his hands behind his back. The thought had not occurred to him exactly that way. But hearing her speak of herself in that manner made him feel hot and bothered. _That will not happen. That cannot happen, she would never let herself go without a fight… and I… I do not want that. _

"Stop speaking," he commanded, "you will only hurt yourself further girl."

Christine rolled her eyes and winced, Erik smirked slightly and it fell as fast it came. From the door a knock sounded and Christine turned her head in the direction of the door. "Is that the man? The one who helped me?"

_I helped you, _Erik thought, "yes."

Silently he walked to the door and pulled it open, Nadir stood there with a bowl and a mug in hand, his smile was wide and almost jubilant. Erik scowled at him.

"What?" His snappy retort made Christine hiss and he ignored it, standing guardedly in front of the door, blocking her out of Nadir's sight. Christine stretched her neck in an attempt to see past Erik.

Nadir's eyes widened at Erik's rather rude disposition. It seemed to him that this was the man's normal state of existence. He had thought that it was only because the girl was in danger last night, clearly that was not the case. "I brought the girl something to eat, and I made you a cup of tea."

Erik looked down to the cup in the man's hand, narrowing his eyes as if he would be able to detect any poisonous material in the fluid.

"Erik," Christine's voice interrupted the heated silence, "allow the man into the room, this is not our home."

Erik simply turned back into the room and went to the far corner where he would be able to stare at both Nadir and Christine. The man took a step forward, suddenly rather hesitant to even be in his own home while the man was there as well. But nonetheless he stepped towards the girl, suddenly freezing as he took her in.

_I could not tell last night because of the darkness… but this is the same girl who works for the de Chagny's! _Nadir's eyes bulged.

Christine stared at him with the same expression. She had not realized that this was the same man who had been in the de Chagny home yesterday. A sudden quake went through her as she realized that he knew that she was the same 'boy'.

Erik stood there with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face, something strange was going on and he was not a part of it, he knew it.

"Thank you sir," Christine made a move to stand but weakly fell back, "I would stand—

"It is quite alright," Nadir assured her with a smile and handed her the bowl. On it she could see a mushy substance, "I would have brought you something more appetizing but I assumed that it would be rather difficult for you to chew it. Are you experiencing any pain in your jaw this morning?" He stepped forward more and crouched in front of her.

"No, I am not," her eyes were wary of him, "you found me last night sir, is that correct?"

"Please call me Nadir and yes, I did."

"Thank you for bringing me here. It was very kind."

"It was what any one might have done," his assured tone made her smile sadly, and then wince.

"Trust me, Nadir, not everyone would."

Erik's annoyance stirred at the fact that the man was taking credit for taking care of her.

"Eat now young one, and then come downstairs, there is much I would like to ask you about last night's events. We must find the attackers—

"No," she shook her head, and Erik's eyes narrowed, "I do not want that—

"Why not?" Nadir interrupted, flabbergasted.

"Because they are starving and jail is the last thing they need. Certainly what they did is not alright… but they were not trying to hurt me for no reason at all," her face crumpled, both from the pain of talking and the admission that "they took everything I had gotten and earned…"

Nadir sighed and came to a stand, eyeballing Christine as she dropped her head, staring down at the food, "eat slowly, I will see you both down stairs."

Nadir left the room with a kind smile at both of them and gave them privacy. Instantly there was a poignant silence. Christine could feel Erik's annoyance even as he stood across the room, for a long moment all she could do was bite her lip with nervousness and then finally she looked up at him.

"What are you thinking of, Erik?"

He did not respond quickly, as if he was trying to figure out how she would best understand, "I am trying to imagine if you are as stupid as I initially thought, Christine."

"Excuse me?" Her breath left her, "what are you-

"Have you absolutely lost your senses? You are sympathizing with the attackers?"

"I understand that what they did was not alright, Erik," her tone was sharp, "however I also understand that they are starving, just like you and I. They needed food and-

"To harm you? Did they need that as well?" Erik clenched his hands into fists, "was that absolutely necessary?"

"I hit them as well Erik," she gritted her teeth, "they hit me in self-defense-

"No you struck them in self-defense," he spit in her direction, as if disgusted by her very presence, "they are the enemy and you sit there and empathize with them."

"Erik I am-

"I suppose I should see things from Javert's point of view, correct?" His eyes narrowed as she trembled, "perhaps I was too severe and unforgiving, I should have understood that he did what he did because he himself needed to survive. Is that right Christine?"

She opened her mouth and then shut it, suddenly at a loss for words. Her eyes dropped to the bowl and she remained silent. Christine never felt so hurt by judgment in her life.

* * *

**Short, but necessary! I don't want to throw everything at you guys at once :) I'll probably update again tonight :) Review? :) **


	22. Selfish

**Chapter XXII**

When Christine finished eating she carefully rose to her feet, wincing at the sore feeling in all her limbs.

Erik watched her carefully as she walked behind him down the small and narrow hallway. Then they made their way down a staircase and into a living room. There Nadir waited for them with one knee over the other and a tea cup in his hand. His eyes rose to them and he instantly came to his feet. Erik noticed the gesture and frowned. _Why did he stand? _Erik did not understand the particular reasoning for it but made a mental note to ask Nadir later on.

"Take a seat, Christine," Nadir smiled and gestured to one of the chairs, "please."

Christine smiled shyly and waddled to a chair, it looked plump and cozy. The air smelled of burning wood and tea. It was warm, she noted, and the colors in Nadir's home only emphasized that ambiance. Slowly she lowered herself to the chair, wincing at her tender muscles. Erik watched her warily and eyeballed Nadir who was still standing, imitating he remained on his feet, and when Christine had settled into the chair then Nadir took a seat. Erik followed suit, wondering why Nadir had not simply remained seated in the first place.

"How are you feeling Christine?"

"I am feeling much better Mr. Khan," she murmured, wondering when he would bring the topic of her working for the de Chagny's up. "Thank you, words cannot suffice to explain my gratitude for your kindness."

"You are most welcome Christine, I could not simply leave you out in the street now could I?" He shrugged, "it would not be right."

"It is what anyone else might have done," Christine smiled. Erik watched and did his best to not show how annoyed he was at her pleasantry, "we will leave this place in no time at all. I do not wish to be a nuisance."

"Young Christine" Nadir laughed, "I am here to help others. At this very moment there are men residing in the empty bedrooms of the second floor who are in need of medical care. I supply them with a place to stay until they can heal."

Erik frowned at that. The man helped people in the streets for a living, then how exactly did he make money? _One does not acquire any sort of wealth off of kindness, it is off of greed._

"That is wonderful," Christine whispered, her eyes widening, "and they live here for free?"

"Not exactly," Nadir shrugged, "they pay me in any way they can, of course if there is absolutely nothing that they can give then I do not exactly toss them to the street, but those men eventually pay me back after they've gotten better, whether I want them to or not. At the end of the day however," Nadir leaned forward and placed his tea cup on the table, "it is all work in the name of humanity. We must care for one another."

Erik resisted a snort, "care for one another? Are you a fool?"

"Erik!" Christine hissed. He shot her a stern glare that she met with equal force, "we are guests-

"No, please speak your mind Erik," Nadir encouraged, eager to hear from the masked man, who had to hide his shock at Nadir's words.

"Humans do not care for one another. Human's simply try to satisfy whatever need they have to feel as if they are good people, and so they help to restore health in others. But they do not actually care for the other person as much as they do to please their egos."

"An interesting point of view," Nadir murmured, steepling his hands and pursing his lips. Christine leaned back into her chair, shaking her head at Erik who looked challengingly at Nadir. His hands were curled around the ends of the arms of the chair. His long pale fingers looked tense as he waited for Nadir's response, his eyes were heated. Nadir spoke, "do you believe that it is impossible to truly care for another person then?"

"I do believe it is possible, but I do not believe that care for a stranger is genuine. It is fear that provokes the action to respond with offering aid, and nothing more."

"Fear of what?"

"Fear that if you do not help your guilt will eat you alive." Erik's amber eyes flashed, "Fear that if you do not help you will feel like a bad person."

Nadir looked to Christine, "Christine."

"Yes?" She whispered, looking from Erik to him.

"Do you have any thoughts on Erik's words?"

"I have only one," her jaw clenched, and then so did his. He felt suddenly nervous to hear what she might think, her disapproval was evident in her stare, "I helped you Erik, and not out of fear for what I may feel if I did not. I put my life at risk to ensure that you may escape your confines. I did this because what you were enduring was cruel, unjust, and reprehensible. I imagined that you were innocent, and that you did not deserve the torturous games they played with you.

"All kindness I bestowed upon you was with no regard for my own life. How dare you say such a thing?" her eyes flashed and she came to a shaky stand, Erik's eyes narrowed, "I care for you more then I did for myself. I did not know you at all. Do you not care for me Erik?" Her thoughts went back to the day that they had escaped, and the fact that he would have given her up. Before she opened her mouth to comment on that event he spoke, reading her expression perfectly.

"My thoughts were not to allow him to use you, Christine," his tone was sharp, reprimanding, "I thought to distract him long enough to kill him."

"It is of no matter," she glared, "know that care for another human being is possible. Stranger, or not. I cared for you the moment I laid eyes on you, and I care for you more then I care for myself even as you stand here denying the existence of my emotions!"

Nadir spoke then, "Stop-

"I did not leave you did I?" She exclaimed, now angry, and delirious with the pain rushing through her as she stepped towards him until she was directly before him, he stared up at her from where he sat, his eyes were flashing warningly, Nadir stood as she continued, "I did not leave! I returned day, after day, to ensure that you were alive, with food, and gifts for you to continue to live! And you think I would be so selfish that it would be out of fear for my guilt? I did not fear to get caught and you think I fear emotions? What do you take me for!" Her voice had risen to an abnormal inclination that he had not heard from her. She was not yelling, but her voice was becoming severe, her eyes were lightning and ice. Erik stood to his towering height, but Christine continued to glare up at him and speak, "you would dare sit there and call me selfish? Have you no care for me then Erik? Am I absolutely nothing to you!"

"Remove yourself from my path lest I thrash you." He bit back, his hands fisted behind his back.

"Do it," she dared him, "beat me bloody like the strangers I met on my way to you, and steal from me as they took everything I had earned for _you_ and I. You do not care for me, correct? You do not fear anything Erik, so then you shall not fear a guilty conscience. Come now," she exposed her face towards him more, "strike me down."

They both stared at one another for a long time. It seemed to Christine that Erik had perhaps stopped breathing, yet she could not be too sure. Nadir stood behind Christine, with a hand on her elbow, gently gripping her there, but she had not noticed.

"Come now Christine," Nadir murmured gently, always keeping his eyes on Erik's stern expression, his eyes were locked in on her own, "agitation will do you no good. Sit girl, sit." He gave her a firm pull and Christine moved out of Erik's way.

Immediately he stalked away from them both, moving up the stairs and back to the second floor, leaving them alone except for each other's presence. Yet, his seemingly angry phantasmal presence remained hovering over their heads.

* * *

**:o Christine and Erik arguing is never any good. Oh well. This was short but I'm editing the next chapter to post it up tonight :) So stay tuned. **

**Tell me what you all think!**


	23. de Chagny Mansion

Chapter XXIII

When Christine entered the bedroom her breathing was tight. She knew that she had greatly upset Erik, and truthfully she wanted to apologize, but every time she brought herself to making a decision about whether or not she was really going to do so – the memory of the things he had said rushed back, slapping her in the face again.

The room was dark when she stepped inside, and despite this she could make out Erik's figure on the bed where he sat. He was upright against the wall with one of his arms propped up on his knee and the other leg splayed out before him, hanging off the other side of the mattress.

But alas, she did not want there to be a rift between the two of them, and so with that in mind Christine stepped forward and sighed heavily, knowing it must be done.

"Erik, I would like to speak to you."

"You are speaking to me," _and I much rather you did not, _he thought sourly, knowing that she would continue. She always continued, pushing him and pushing him. Christine's blue eyes shifted uncomfortably.

"I wanted to apologize for my rude behavior," she said it through gritted teeth. Apologizing was not something she hated, it was apologizing to _Erik_ that bothered her, _he should be the one to do this, not I, _"it was unfair of me to speak to you so harshly for your opinion."

He regarded her in silence for a long moment, replaying all her words in his head. They had been repeating themselves in his thoughts over and over. One thing she said in particular struck him the most. _Christine claims to care more about my own well being then her own. Is it truly possible to overlook all the flaws of another and think about goodness? Could she possibly be so naïve?_

"Very well," he responded curtly, "however, should you dare to be as disrespectful as you were earlier I will not fail to put you in your place, Christine."

"I would enjoy to see you try," she challenged daringly, smirking slightly. Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes and simply stared at her, Christine quickly changed topics. "I will be visiting the de Chagny mansion this afternoon. I owe them an explanation—

"Have you truly lost your mind? Why do I bother to ask anymore?" Erik interrupted, standing promptly, "of course you have. You have lost all your wits! You are bruised and injured and all you can think of is to explain to those fops the reason why you did not go to work? They do not care, girl, or do you not understand such a simple concept?"

"I do not care about your opinion on the matter, I am going out to see them and that is final. I will not lose this job over something that can be explained with a few words, this is the only way we eat Erik," she reminded him, her stare became icy, "there is nothing else I can do."

He considered her words for a moment, knowing that they were true and still searching for a hole. Frustrated, he sat down slowly, his back remained perfectly straight, staring up ahead of himself stoically. "And how will you get to the estate?"

"Mr. Khan has offered to take me," Christine noticed Erik's scowl deepen, "I'm certain that if I can simply explain what happened that Monsieur de Chagny will forgive me."

"It is he who should ask for your forgiveness," Erik shook his head, "that man is to blame for your injuries. Had he any sense at all, or the least bit of decency he would have shown you to a spare room and allowed you to take shelter there for the night. Instead he sends you to the street without any care at all for what may happen to you."

Christine blushed slightly, somewhat enjoying Erik's caring attitude, or at least what she hoped was caring. Then she shrugged, "I must go and try to maintain my job nonetheless Erik. I must be going, I will return tonight –

"I will gather you from the de Chagny's home, expect me at the gate. Do not leave until I have arrived."

Christine sighed, not bothering to put up an argument.

**...**

When Christine and Nadir passed the gates of the home they ran over the plan again.

"You will do your best to look remorseful and be silent. If your injuries are as extreme as they seem you should not have much ability to speak," Nadir said, "and it would be best that I explain their extent with more severity, it might broach some sympathy with them, do you not agree?"

"Certainly," Christine nodded, staring ahead of her as they turn into the second courtyard, "however, I do have to speak at some point."

"Yes, and when you do it will be 'no sir, yes sir, of course sir.' Nothing more and nothing less."

Christine did not reply, knowing it was true.

Nadir rapt his knuckles against the door and waited a moment until it was pulled open by an elderly butler with droopy eyes and a bored expression, yet when his eyes traveled to Christine they seemed to jolt a bit at the sight of her bruises, "may I help you, sir?" The man asked, struggling to remove his eyes from her.

"Yes, I am here to see Monsieur de Chagny," Nadir's tone was certain, even though he truly had no meeting with the man.

"Certainly sir, please come inside and he shall be with you in just a few moments if he is able."

The inside of the home was spotless as always, and as the man went up the stairs to get the man of the home Christine began to wonder if Philippe was in the home somewhere, flirting, or if he was out pretending to be a decent man. Truthfully, she could see the youth in his heart. _What would Erik think of such a man? Would he disdain him for being part of a rich family?_

"Thinking of Erik, are you?" Nadir asked with a mutter, "you frown whenever you think of Erik."

"He is on my mind often," she admitted, "he is quite a character as you've seen."

"Erik is cryptic. That is all. He has never had one like you by his side to tell him right from wrong, that is obvious in his demeanor. He does not like the fact that you are so forthright with him, it sets him on edge and confuses him. Not because you may be abrasive, but I suspect it might be because in some sense he does not wish to treat you the way he would treat anyone else who dared speak to him in such a manner. He does not wish to harm you, and so he does not understand how to respond to you."

The thought made her blush, and so she did not respond. Nadir knew that she agreed nonetheless.

"Nadir Khan!" Monsieur de Chagny called from the top of the stairs, and Christine carefully stepped out so that he might see her as well, "and Gregor? Boy, what has happened to your face?" As he continued making his way down the stairs Nadir answered.

"I found the lad beaten on the side of the street and robbed. It appears that a few vandals had their eyes on him. I took him to my home and brought him here as he wanted to explain to you that he would like to remain under your employment, if you would have him."

M. de Chagny's beady eyes moved to Gregor who stood there trembling like a leaf. His face was slightly recognizable, and the ratty clothing was what gave him away. The boy need a bath, new clothing, new everything, including shoes. Finally he landed on the last step and stood in front of both of them, trying to figure out what must be done.

"Were you robbed of everything?"

Gregor nodded, his eyes downcast.

"I cannot have you running around looking as you do now, thus you will work but only where visitors might not catch sight of you. I do not want rumors spreading that I beat those under my employment," the man sighed, "you may work with the maids. You will bring them whatever they require. You will be fast on your feet and learn the layout of my home immediately, are we understood?" oh that is nice.

"Yes, sir." Gregor responded, he sounded slightly choked.Christine's hand begn to throb painfully as she considered that she might be asked to do work that will require use of it.

"Good," M. de Chagny turned his head slightly towards the kitchen, "Ruella!"

A few moments later a woman in flat shoes stepped out, her eyes were wide and dark, her face long and thin and she was quivering like a leaf. Instantly Christine frowned, the girl was meek.

"Y-y-yes sir?"

"Stop that stuttering girl, listen here," he stepped closer to her and pointed at Gregor, "show the boy where everything is in this home, I expect you to show him only the necessary things. He will work as aid to the maids, God knows they need the help. I would rather not have them clumsily running into one another in an attempt to fetch things they may have forgotten. Now, get to it. Nadir, come with me."

Ruella nodded shakily and looked to Gregor who was already walking to her side.

**…**

Ruella proved to not be a leaf at all. As soon as they were out of M. de Chagny's presence the girl seemed to have calmed. Her eyes were more relaxed and she gracefully pointed out closets and took Christine all over the home. She could understand only then why it was that Monseiur de Chagny needed an aid for the maids. It was simply too large to run efficiently even at the basest levels.

"This is Philippe de Chagny's room," she blushed and continued walking, "and this is his study. You are not to enter this room unless you have explicit permission. Philippe is quite protective of this room in particular."

Christine bit her lip and resisted a laugh, it seemed to her that Ruella had been in Philippe's very private study before by the looks of her reddened cheeks. When Ruella continued her explanation Christine resisted the urge to ask for an elaboration.

"One maid in particular is allowed entrance into this room, if she asks you to bring material for her to clean it, you are to leave it outside the door. Never enter unless Philippe has asked you to enter. Is that clear, Gregor?"

Gregor nodded with an interested look at the white door with the golden door knob before Ruella led him to the last door on the opposite side of the hallway. It stood beside a long window that allowed light to shine through into the rest of the hallway, when it was opened it was revealed to be a closet.

It seemed to Christine be a huge disappointment. As she ignored Ruella who was explaining to her how she was to organize everything within the space she realized that the reason as to why she was so disappointed was because there seemed to be an underlying tension and mystery in this house. It seemed to her that every floor had it's own secret.

First there was the most obvious, Philippe de Chagny. It seemed to her that she had seen something rebellious in him. There was also the door which she was not allowed to open without the explicit permission of Philippe de Chagny. Second, there was Miss de Chagny, whom Christine had yet to see in person, and who had a room all to herself as Ruella had shown her. Third, Monsieur de Chagny's room was on the third floor while Miss de Chagny's was on the first. Why did they not rest together?

"Come now, I must show you M. Raoul de Chagny's room," the woman instructed. Christine's eyes widened slightly. She had completely forgotten about the younger brother. The one whom she never saw. Was he as kind as his brother? She wondered…

Ruella led Christine up to the third floor and then to a door. This one was white, with blue designs all over it. Quietly Ruella pushed the door open and allowed Christine a peek. The room was spacious, and there were royal blue curtains hanging off the large windows, she caught sight of clothing strewn on the floor and wondered if he was just messy, or didn't care for all the work the maids already had to do.

It was probably both.

"Now, to his study."

Ruella took Christine past another door and then finally to Raoul de Chagny's study. Quietly she knocked on the door.

"Enter!" A youthful voice called from inside.

"That is M. de Chagny," Ruella whispered, her glossy brown eyes widening.

Christine nodded and Ruella pushed the door open.

"Well, well," a man grinned from where he sat. His hair was blonde and pulled back away from his face, there were two other men in the room, one had short and glossy brown hair while the other had wavy blonde strands and his back to Christine, "may we help you?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you M. de Chagny," Christine whispered, bowing at the waist as she knew was proper for a 'boy'. But then she wondered if she had done something wrong because they all erupted into laughter. Beside her Ruella stiffened.

They continued to laugh and laugh as Christine stood there, confused. Even the brunette male was having a hard time drinking his wine and had to cover his mouth as he regarded her. The one with blonde wavy hair was laughing against a bookcase, and M. de Chagny was in a riot.

"You fool," the one with wavy hair told M. de Chagny, grinning as he turned, "it is cruel of you to trick him."

"I did no such thing, the lad assumed I was you."

At this Christine stiffened and looked at the wavy haired male.

_Oh God._

His hazel eyes found her and for a moment all they could do was stare at one another. Christine's blue eyes widened with horror at the sight of him. He recognized her as well as the poor lad from the bookstore who he had insulted. He knew he was recognized as well by the slow smile spreading over his face at her expression. He recognized her despite all the bruises.

"This is the young vicomte de Chagny," Ruella whispered softly.

Raoul de Chagny gave a wide grin then, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

Without finding her voice, and ignoring the snickers of his friends Christine nodded. With a stiff bow at the waist Christine quickly escaped the room, trying to ignore the laughter of his friends echoing from the room behind her.

* * *

**Well isn't that embarrassing... well, let's hope Christine can avoid him!? What are we hoping for. What do we think of the de Chagny home! **


	24. Intervention

Chapter XXIV

The day passed without incident. Christine, or Gregor, as she was called, did as she was asked throughout the day. Often her mind would wander to Raoul de Chagny. He was quite handsome, she had to admit, but he also infuriated her. She could not pinpoint why, but there was certainly something about him that rubbed her in the wrong way.

Finally at the end of the day Christine was about to slip out of the house when Monseiur de Chagny stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you have someone to meet you Gregor? I would hate to wake up tomorrow and find that you are not here on account of someone harming you again." The man laughed as if though it were funny, Christine put on a small smile and nodded, trying to resist the urge to shrug his hand off.

"Yes sir, I have a friend who will meet me at the end of the street. Thank you for your concern, goodnight."

"Goodnight Gregor," Monseiur de Chagny smiled slightly and released her. Christine quickly slipped from the house and then out of the gate.

_What a strange family, _she thought as she began softly singing. _There is Philippe, who is overwhelmingly flirtatious and comical. His father who is simply unsettling, and his brother who is infuriating. And of course, Miss de Chagny who I have yet to meet. A strange family, indeed._

…

_Her voice…_

Erik had never heard something so awe inspiring. It seemed to him that she had split into another person. He had grown to know stubborn Christine, infuriating Christine, curious Christine, and brave Christine. But this one was something else.

It was a voice of potential! It transformed her from an overly compassionate girl to one of hidden talents. Talents that he never thought she could have. Certainly her voice needed work. She could not hold out notes, and did not enunciate. Still… he could hear that she had a high soprano range.

As he followed Erik felt that his bones were melting. He continuously applied it to his own music, his Don Juan Triumphant. Her voice was perfect for it. How could it be that he had never known of such a thing. And just like that his annoyance became apparent. Was she unaware of how talented she was? Her voice could make angels weep from the sheer beauty of it.

"Christine…"

"Ah!" Christine shrieked violently and jumped, whirling around at the sound of Erik's voice and clutching her chest with fear. "Have you been following me?!" Christine asked loudly, now too stricken with fear to talk at a normal volume. Erik was still walking towards her with his eyes focused intently When he finally came to a stop she repeated her question, more annoyed now.

"Yes. I was going to reveal my presence earlier, but I was distracted."

"Distracted by what?" She demanded, "you have scared the life out of me with that little stunt Erik. Good lord-

"Your voice," he stated softly, his amber eyes glistening under the faint light of the moon. Christine shuddered a bit at the intensity, "your voice has potential Christine. I did not know you sang—

"I told you I did-

"Yes but you did not tell me that you were a soprano."

She frowned then and crossed her arms. "What in the world would make you believe that I would identify myself in such a way? 'My name is Christine Daae, I sing for francs and am a soprano."

He resisted a smirk at her rather fiery attitude. "I suppose that would be rather forthcoming."

"Yes, very," she rolled her eyes and continued on her path, Erik followed close to her side. "Why does it matter to you that I am a soprano? Why should I have told you that I can sing so well? My voice is mediocre at best."

"It matters quite a bit now that we will be living in an Opera House Christine," he muttered, looking at her with a slight scowl, "you will not have to work on the streets if they hear what a wonderful voice you have. You need training, that is all, other than that you are a natural talent."

Christine stared at him for just a moment, then she began to speak angrily, "it is very cruel of you to do such a thing Erik. To momentarily raise my hopes into the illusion that I may one day grace the stage of the opera house when you know that such a thing is impossible. Have you lost your senses or do you forget that I am a vagabond and that the Opera house will never grace their stage with a nobody-

"Stop it!" Erik hissed, suddenly grabbing her by the forearm. Christine's breathing hitched violently as he held her tightly by her bony arm. His eyes burned down at her, "you will not speak of yourself in such a degrading manner in my presence from here on out. I am confident that you will do as I tell you and never repeat such words again, or else the consequence will be severe."

"You do not tell me how I am to regard myself!"

His eyes narrowed, "Christine, you try my patience. Stop this foolishness right now and open your ears. You will not speak of yourself as if you were nothing. You will come to understand with time that your voice has a power unlike anything you can imagine. You will also come to understand that even the lowest creature can rise to become something magnificent. I will ensure it."

Her throat became tight, and she felt that her eyes were burning. His words made her want to cry. But it could have also been the tight grip on her arm. Swallowing she spoke, "and how will you ensure such a thing Erik?"

"I will train you of course," his grip lessened, "we will make certain that by the time you audition for the Opera House that you are more than anything they could hope for. You alone will be the star attraction of their stage."

"Erik," she shook her head as he released her arm. Her heart was beating quickly. He said it with such a confidence that he left no room for argument. She knew it would happen. He would make it happen even if she did not want him to, "this… this is simply too much-

"No, it is not enough." His corrective tone made her nod absent mindedly. Then, he suddenly took her by the hand. His cool flesh made her breath the quietest sigh of both calm, and shock. He began pulling her down the street at an awfully quick pace, frowning, "we must get you out of the cold. Falling ill is the last thing we need. When you are inside you will make a cup of tea to warm your throat and then you will rest. Tomorrow after work we will practice for the first time and see just exactly what you can do."

"This is too much," Christine murmured again, "I cannot perform on a stage I have never graced a stage in my—

"No but you have graced crowds have you not?" Erik's sharp tone shocked her as he turned his head to look at her. His eyes were still simmering from their previous heat, "you have sung for people who were not even worthy of hearing you. Selfish, loathsome creatures who did not reward you for allowing them the pleasure of hearing you-

"Stop it Erik," Christine breathed, pulling on her hand and yanking it out of his. Her eyes were watering as Erik stopped and stared at her with mild confusion, "please stop it with these endless compliments." His gaze softened it seemed, "you overestimate my abilities. I will disappoint you."

For a long time they remained silent. Erik could tell from the quick rise and fall of her breathing that she was in fact becoming very stressed out at the idea of letting him down, and perhaps even herself. Stepping forward, with a slight discomfort Erik allowed his hand to come up and touched her chin.

Christine stiffened slightly as he raised her face to stare up at him. The intensity had returned, except this time it was a cold burning fire. One that silenced all of her doubt.

"You will not disappoint me. You have done nothing but surprise me, Christine Daae. Whatever disappointment I have will be with myself for not propelling your voice into perfection. The fault shall lie with me, not with you. Now, girl, stop doubting yourself and heed my words. You will be perfect."

_Please stop, _she thought as he repeated himself.

"You will be everything you wanted to be and more. Do you understand?"

_I understand. _

"Answer me," he ordered quietly.

"I understand…"

Releasing her chin he nodded once sharply. "Good. Now. Come, we must get you out of the night air."

To Christine's intense joy he took her by the hand and led her to Nadir's home. Just like that Christine Daae made up her mind to do all in her power to please Erik.

* * *

**Woo finally Erik you opened your freakin' ears! Christine is a beast Erik, you've got no idea. But I'll help you come to that realization soon enough, you'll see :)**


	25. Failing

**Chapter XXV**

Erik was amazed, and annoyed all at once. He had never experienced such a wide range of emotions intermingling so well with one another, but here it was.

Christine had sang her heart out for him, and yet there was more to be done. Nadir listened from his bedroom as Erik commanded Christine to sing in higher octaves, to raise her voice as if she wanted it to envelop him. She did as she was commanded and while he remained both impressed and irritated.

"You have no presence," he told her when she clutched her throat, massaging it. Her eyes met his intensely, "you sing like a ghost. Not like you are actually here."

"I thought that was a good thing," she murmured, "to lose oneself in the moment-

"I do not want you to lose yourself in the moment," he interrupted her sharply, "I want you to be very much in the moment. I want the music to be inescapable. Your focus should be on yourself, and I, not on forcing your mind to wander."

"Yes, Erik," Christine whispered, nodding and trusting his judgment. Erik, from where he sat nodded once, sharply and then sighed heavily.

"I am going to the opera house tonight and will be back in the morning. If I do not see you then I will see you tomorrow night after your schedule is finished. I will pick you up at the gate-

"You don't have to-

His sharp stare silenced Christine. There was just no arguing this with him, so without another word she accepted her fate to being walked home and remained silent.

Erik left a few minutes later after gathering a bag. When Christine dared to ask what contents it held he replied only that it held things of great importance. Christine rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the scowl he gave her in return and crawled into the bed, exhausted.

**…**

Erik arrived at the opera house in no time at all. His excitement had hurried his step up. He crawled through the space in the side of the opera house easily and dropped to the floor silently. Knowingly he made his way up to the manager's office and took the map out.

Erik followed the directions all the way to a large dressing room. When he forced the door open he was not surprised to find many different costumes, all very elaborate. He caught sight of a long black cloak with small blue beads on the shoulders. Upon further inspection he found that the cloak was made out of a thick cotton material. Without a second thought he set his lantern down and tossed it over his shoulder.

It was a heavy material, but he was certain that if he donned it enough it would become like his second skin. He turned and examined himself in the long mirror. He did strike an imposing figure. The white mask kept catching the light of his lantern and it made the beads on the cloak glimmer very slightly. He liked it quite a bit.

Would they noticed a cloak missing? He hoped not, it was his now.

Erik did not waste more time and went to the mirror. He knew by the details on the map that there was a sort of cave-like entrance to the lower levels of the opera house. They had built a mirror out of sheer laziness in covering up the entrance. It suited him perfectly.

_If this is to become our home, _he thought as he pulled at the mirror, _then I am going to need quick access to Christine should the day come when she is backstage after her performances. _He paused in thought as he pulled the mirror open. _I will also need to make this mirror more secure. I will not tolerate wanderers stumbling upon my home. _

Erik moved past the mirror carefully. He could already feel a cool breeze rushing towards him and blistering into the room behind him. The draft itself smelled a bit fresh and he could even hear it whistling through the tunnel. Lighting his way carefully Erik continued winding down the path and glanced behind every now and then. Perhaps this was not a good idea. But as he continued to second guess himself he knew that there was no reason as to why he should. This was perfect for he and Christine. Besides, when he was done with this dank place it would look much better. It would be a safe haven for he and Christine.

"Christine will like this," he spoke to himself, listening to how his voice traveled, "it is secretive. We will be close to the stage… I will have my own quarters and she will have her own. And that nuisance of a man, Nadir, will help us get whatever we need into this room." Erik smirked, "an organ, piano, a bookshelf, couches, beds, candles… food." The thought of what their home could possibly look like kept Erik occupied as he reached the edge of the tunnel and suddenly looked out into a long body of water.

"And a boat," he murmured, "we will need a boat."

**…**

The following morning Christine woke up to harsh sunlight in her eyes. She made her way downstairs, greeted Nadir and Erik who were sharing a cup of tea and then made her way out the door.

When she approached the de Chagny mansion she was not surprised to find Philippe talking to the dark skinned woman who was picking flowers. She was smiling to herself as Philippe spoke, and the closer Christine came the more obvious his flirtation became.

"Truly, as pretty as the rose in your hand." He smirked as the woman rolled her eyes.

"Vicomte de Chagny I believe you are out of line," she warned him half-heartedly. Christine resisted a giggle, noticing that neither had noticed her approaching presence.

"I would much rather you were out of those clothes-Gregor!" Philippe piped up, noticing the boy's presence and grinning from ear to ear, "how are you?"

"I am well, sir, and yourself?"

"Very good, very good, now hurry and get inside, there is much to do around the home today." Philippe grinned, "there is to be a celebration."

When Christine got inside it seemed to her that everyone was in a flurry of activity. Vases were being moved and replaced, flowers were being arranged, the floors were being swept and the spotless windows were being cleaned – again.

Ruella appeared quite literally out of nowhere and pulled Gregor towards the dining room with quick steps.

Christine asked her when the ball was set for and Ruella calmly explained that it was in two days. Christine wondered then why they were in such a rush to get everything ready, but Ruella explained that because the house was so large and so many guests were attending that it was in their best interest to get everything done as early as possible, and that she needed to start dusting off the paintings all around the house.

Christine did her work diligently and she actually enjoyed it. Compared to everyone else she had a job that was relatively easy. Plus, she was able to examine the paintings up close.

She gathered from what she could see that Raoul and Philippe resembled their beautiful mother more than their father. They were both stunning to look at, and yet they displayed very different airs. While Philippe exuded a cool confidence and a childish wit, Raoul seemed all intensity and a quiet sort of intelligence.

It was as Christine was dusting off the painting of a long landscape that she suddenly felt a presence behind her.

"It is a beautiful painting is it not?" Raoul de Chagny asked as Christine stiffened.

She stepped back from the painting and turned around to face him. She felt as if though her heart had tightened in her chest. Raoul's smirk was dazing, "good evening monsieur de Chagny—

"Nonsense, call me Raoul," he smiled. His blonde hair shined as he swung it out of his face.

"Monsieur I am uncomfortable with that." She admitted, swirling the rag in her hand and daring another glimpse up at him, regretting it when her heart sped up.

"I insist upon it," he admitted with a small smile, "at least when it is only you and I."

Christine nodded quietly and stood there awkwardly. What did he want?

"What a coincidence, is it not?" Raoul asked quietly, "that you should show up in my home only weeks after I encounter you in a bookshop?"

"Yes, quite a coincidence," she murmured.

Raoul hummed in agreement and looked at the painting again, "so, must I ask you again for your opinion on the piece?"

Christine sighed and turned to stare at it. It was a beautiful piece. Everything was perfectly painted onto the canvas, but that was the problem.

"There is nothing interesting in this painting," she shrugged, "it is not an expression of passion if not just… an imitation. There is no depth, it is exactly what it is supposed to be. A moment captured on canvas, but that is all. It is only the top layer of the scene, and it does not look beyond the outer most shell."

"Mhm," he nodded agreeing and then smiling, "I must go now. But thank you Gregor, I will make certain to remember to look beyond the 'outermost shell' the next time I paint a landscape."

Christine was so embarrassed after that that she could hardly keep the blush off her face – even after he left her presence.

She hoped that she would not have to face Raoul de Chagny again for the rest of the evening. The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully until it was time for Christine to actually go home. She continued hoping that she would not encounter Raoul but as she was leaving the home she knew that that would not be possible. Raoul de Chagny was at the gate conversing with his brother who seemed to be rolling his eyes at something he said. As soon as Christine made a quiet attempt to pass by them he called.

"Gregor!" Raoul smirked, "are you walking home so late?"

"Yes," she responded quietly, turning to face him and his brother as they approached. Now that they stood side by side she could see the differences despite the darkness. Raoul's eyes were darker and more cunning, Philippe's were brighter and wider. They had the same jaw, the same hair and nose, but Raoul was leaner where Philippe was broader.

"It is dangerous for one as small as you to walk alone, don't you agree?" Raoul asked as Philippe hummed in agreement.

"I have a friend meeting me." Christine murmured.

"Well then let us walk you to where this friend will pick you up," Philippe shrugged.

"No, that is quite alright," Christine smiled as pleasantly as she could. There was something about Raoul that set her on edge. It was the way he stared at her – as if he could see right through her. She suspected that he was more intelligent than his family thought.

"Did you know that Gregor thinks my painting is boring?" Raoul asked Philippe with an amused smirk, "he seems to think that I cannot see past the outer most shell."

Philippe laughed then, making Christine blush and Raoul grin, "well he is correct. It is a dull painting." Suddenly Philippe looked at the time, "I must go now."

"Yes, to study," Raoul rolled his eyes, "one day you will be caught for your –

"_PZZT_!" Philippe hushed him angrily, "you speak too much. Now walk Gregor to the corner."

Raoul laughed and ignoring the look on Gregors face he led him out of the gate.

Christine began an awkwardly paced walk as Raoul followed her.

"You don't like me very much do you?"

Rather than say anything at all Christine kept her mouth closed. It wasn't that she did not like him, it was that he set her on edge. He looked at her too closely.

"That's fine, you don't have to." He smiled as they crossed the street.

Christine wondered if Erik was following them, but Raoul's next words distracted her.

"You are annoyed with me."

Christine burst into a fit of laughter, "excuse me?"

Raoul grinned, "you are annoyed with me."

"Monsieur I assure you that I am not annoyed with you," that wasn't completely true.

"That is not true," Raoul knew, "I am certain that there is a part of you that wishes for nothing more than to hurt me."

"You are wrong," she smiled despite herself, "you are wrong." When they reached the corner of the street Christine turned to the young vicomte, "I will wait for my friend here."

"Are you certain that he will come?"

"Yes," Christine nodded quietly, shivering under the blue of Raoul's stare.

He nodded then and suddenly lifted his hand. Christine flinched slightly but when he brushed away a stray hair from her face she became very still.

"I should also let you know," Raoul stated with a sly look, "that I see past the outer shell. You'd be surprised at how perceptive I can be."

Christine stiffened at his words and was about to ask him what he was insinuating but she knew all too well what he was saying. Raoul winked and walked away with a confident pep in his step.

Christine could not wait for Erik, she instantly rushed home.

Raoul knew!

**…**

Erik had seen the exchange though he had heard nothing. He had followed since the moment they stepped beyond the de Chagny gate. Never in his life had he been so disgusted. These people were wealthy beyond need. Their home was revoltingly beautiful.

And then there was this boy. This fop whose name he did not know. He seemed to be the more arrogant of the two. He was walking dangerously close to Christine, and as much as he wanted to pop out from the shadows and pull him away from her side he did not dare.

Erik watched, walking with clenched fist as the boy made Christine laugh. It was a sharp and shocked sound that escaped her but it was a laugh nonetheless. The handsome lad then grinned and smiled at her. Erik wondered if Christine found him handsome, and if his handsome features meant that she would fall under the spell he was so clearly trying to cast over her.

Could the boy see past her 'male' disguise?

Could Christine see past the boy's façade of kindness?

He could not be trusted.

When they both came to a stop Erik wondered why. Was the boy not going to walk her home? It did not appear to be the case, but suddenly the boy reached up and dared to brush a lock of her hair away.

The blush on Christine's face had Erik trembling with anger.

_That foolish boy! How dare he? _Erik thought, enraged as the handsome boy walked away from Christine with such an arrogance about him that Erik thought he might chase him down the street and beat it all out of him.

Christine walked home so quickly that Erik did not bother to try and catch up with her. She seemed in a hurry to get inside and he was in no mood to talk with her. He needed to sort out his thoughts. He was inexplicably angry, and yet he did not know who it was aimed at. Was it at the boy for touching her? Christine for allowing it? Or himself for caring at all?

**…**

Christine woke up the next morning bright and early. To her mild annoyance Erik was nowhere in sight. She had not seen him the previous night either but distinctly remembered hearing his voice sometime in the night as he spoke to Nadir. Now it seemed that she would finally get to ask him where he was the night before as he had promised to go and walk her home.

She heard what sounded like murmuring downstairs. She suspected that it was Erik talking to Nadir. Quietly Christine made her way out of the room, listening carefully as she went.

"A boat?" Nadir asked, he sounded skeptical, "do you understand how much a-

"I do not want one bought I want it built specifically for two people. It should not cost a fortune, it must simply be enough to carry us across a small body of water." Erik replied curtly.

"Oh?!" Nadir laughed, "and how do you expect to pay me back Erik? Do not take my kindness for foolishness. I am well aware of your lack of money and while I am more then willing to negotiate I will not go into this matter blindly."

"I will find a way. I simply need this boat built, very soon. It is the only way for me to travel across the lake. If you find a modestly sized boat that will do."

Christine leaned over the railing and looked out into the living room where Erik sat with his hands steepled in front of his face, and Nadir with his hands on his hips. Nadir was on his feet, and by his body language Christine imagined that he was flabbergasted at Erik's train of thought.

"You also want a piano and an organ-

"I can acquire those things from the Opera house myself."

"You intend to steal them then?"

"Certainly."

"You will not," Christine glared from where she stood. Erik did not turn his face up towards her but Nadir jumped at the suddenness of her voice, staring up in suprise, "if we have a home there is no reason for why we should continue being the thieves we are."

Erik moved his eyes up towards her. He had heard her footsteps before she stepped out of the room and was not surprised at her presence, or her reaction, "certain things must be done for us to continue living."

"We must rise above this all Erik," she replied softly, moving down the stairs then, "if we continue to steal then what good are we? Are we not trying to work towards a better future?"

"Yes," Erik agreed, "but until we find a way to have a steady income we must resort to other things. The Opera house managers will simply have to respect our authority."

"Our authority?" She laughed as she reached the bottom step. Christine couldn't believe what she was hearing. What authority did he believe they had? Had Erik truly lost his mind? Was his ego so inflated that he believed that he could just do whatever he wanted? That must have been it.

"I will make sure the managers understand that they are to respect me as owner of the opera house."

"Good lord man, are you insane?" Nadir asked, his eyes bulging at Erik's cool and collected resolve, "you cannot simply march into the office of the mangers and demand that they give you money simply because you will be inhabiting the depths of their building. You have no place there! You have—" Nadir choked on his disbelief. "What do you think you are doing Erik?"

"I know exactly what I am doing. I will not march into the Opera house office demanding money, I am well aware of the fact that they will simply kick me out. However, if they cannot see me, or fathom where I come from then they are certain to turn to superstition as an explanation for what they witness. They will simply be obeying the orders of a thin skinned opera ghost. Imagine their horror when they realize that their opera house is haunted."

Christine's eyes widened at what he was suggesting and she looked to Nadir who looked like he might scream from confusion. Christine opened her mouth, "are you saying that you will pretend to be a ghost in the presence of the managers? And that you will threaten them into giving you money?"

Erik nodded, looking at her blankly, "no harm will come to the managers. They will all be empty threats." That was a lie and he knew it. If the managers dared cross him he would make certain they never thought to do so again.

As Christine contemplated what Erik was suggesting she realized that he probably had no plan on telling her. He seemed to have his mind made up about the matter and whether or not she disapproved would matter very little. This annoyed her. They were planning to live with one another and yet he did not consider that if his plan backfired it would mean that the repercussions would be her own too.

"Extortion," Nadir confirmed in one simple word. When Erik nodded he shook his head, "I cannot be a part of this plot."

"You were not expected to be," Christine murmured, staring at Erik with narrowed eyes, "neither was I. Erik is going to extort money all on his own and did not plan on telling me, is that not right?"

To her surprise Erik looked away, almost sheepishly and uncomfortable.

"Is that how things are now? I am simply to follow along blindly as you put us in continuous danger?"

"There would be no danger-

"You do not know that," she snapped quietly, ignoring the look Nadir gave her. It was one that was pleading for her to not turn this into an argument, he was started to realize that Erik's temper was just as bad as her own, except Erik seemed more capable of inflicting actual injury. "Erik we are together in this, you cannot simply—

"I can do whatever I wish Christine," Erik reminded her sharply, "you do not have to know everything I do-

"I do!" She exclaimed, annoyed with his defensive behavior, "if we are one then we are to be completely honest—

She stopped short as Erik suddenly began to snicker. Her eyes narrowed and her hands flew to her hips, Nadir sighed heavily and shook his head.

"What is so humorous?"

"You," Erik said, sobering up and standing, "whatever made you think that we are one? Are you so blind? You humor yourself by thinking that you matter so much to me. "

"Oh, Erik," Nadir sighed and put his hand on his own forehead, shaking his head sadly. The cruel glint in Erik's eye faded into mild embarrassment as Christine's eyes lowered to the ground and her hands trembled.

The words hurt her. She knew that she did not have any logical reason to feel so hurt, but there it was, powerful and tingling through her chest. She could even feel it on the surface of her face. Her cheeks were flaring up and her ears were itching suddenly.

She felt so embarrassed.

"I will give the two of you privacy now," Nadir murmured awkwardly and shuffled out of the room. Christine listened for his footsteps and when they had faded she began to think of what to say as she stared at her feet, but her hurt was almost overwhelming… there was simply nothing to say.

Erik stared at Christine quietly. He knew that he had gone too far. But still he did not expect this reaction out of her. He expected her anger, her anger was better than her silence. Her anger humored him and made him feel … strangely fascinated with her. But this made him feel dead inside, like he had been before he met her. Summoning the courage to speak he opened his mouth, prepared to make amends "Christine-

Christine did not respond, instead she began a quick step away from him. Erik was on his feet almost instantly, following her up the stairs.

A tightness began at his chest as she ignored him. He wasn't speaking, and yet it felt like she could hear him apologizing to her over and over with every step he took after her. But she was moving away so quickly, and the weight of what he had said was weighing him down with shame.

"Christine—

"Stop it Erik, just _stop_," she quietly snapped as they walked passed a few bedroom doors, "I understand my place very clearly now. Do not think that I will impose myself on you ever again."

She had reached the bedroom door now and pushed it open, before she could shut it Erik placed his hand against it, staring down at her with confusion. Her blue eyes had hardened again. It made him angry at her. Angry for making him care, angry for making him want them to soften. He shouldn't have cared – but he did.

"Remove your hand," she stated with a slightly warning tone.

"What I said-

"Made it clear that I should not be around you. You seem to hate my very presence and I am not willing to impose myself on you, your _highness_," she stated with a mock bow, "with that being said, I wish you luck." She clarified after he narrowed his eyes, "with your new home. I wish you luck. I will be finding somewhere else to live with the pay of the de Chagny's. It was nice knowing you Erik," she smiled sarcastically and then angrily slammed the door in his face.

Christine stomped over to the bed and began preparing herself for another day of work. It would be a long day, today they were setting up the decorations for the extravagant party. With that thought Christine stormed out of the room. She could hear Nadir speaking to Erik downstairs. Quickly she made her way down and ignored Erik's look in her direction as she bid farewell to Nadir and promised to return safely that night.

Her annoyance knew no bounds, she only hoped that she did not encounter Raoul de Chagny today, she was in no mood for his little games.

* * *

**:( Why Erik! Why do you always stick your foot in your mouth! And poor Christine :( But quite honestly I would be the same wy like "Psh! Boy bye!" Imagine if Christine started speaking in Ebonics?**

**"Christine," murmurred Erik, "forgive me." **

**"Boy bye! Who da fuk do you think you is? Comin' up in here wit' dat white mask on, actin' like you run this house, honey please, I got better things to do wit' my time den sit here arguin' with you. DISMISSED!" -Snaps her fingers in his face- **

**Something is wrong with me, o_o Review! :) **


	26. Philippe and the study

**Chapter XXVI**

Christine did as she was told with curt nods and a stiff jaw. Erik's words still plagued her thoughts and try as she might she simply could not bring herself to calm down. He was a nuisance, and she would be better off without him, or at least she was trying to convince herself of this.

The de Chagny household was filled with activity in preparation for the festivities. Christine had been helping Ruella count the many wine glasses that the family owned as well as helping monsieur de Chagny write letters.

She found each one of her thoughts wandering back to Erik. Christine wondered if he truly grasped the idea that there would be no reason to steal money once they were in the depths of the opera house. She did not wish to resort to such things when they could rise above that. It seemed to Christine that Erik did not care for morality. He found nothing wrong with stealing and he had proved it yet again. The first time was when he chastised her for paying for bread instead of just stealing it, and now he wished to extort money from the managers. _He shall turn my hair gray._

Christine was walking down the hallway and scowling at her feet as she made her way to the kitchens. She was hungry and was commanded by Monsieur de Chagny to gather something from the cook there.

The dark skinned woman was directing maids and others to attend to different things. It seemed to Christine that she had an easy grace about her and yet a demanding tone in her voice. People remained attentive as she instructed them to peel garlic, or to squeeze out lemons and make juice for tomorrow.

Christine took a seat silently and watched as people ran off to do what they were told until it was just her and the woman whose eyes landed on her. The brown eyed woman stepped forward and eyeballed 'Gregor' carefully. Leaning forward onto the table she narrowed her gaze and Christine shifted uncomfortably.

"You should not frown so hard boy," the softest smile graced her face, "your face will get permanently stuck that way."

"That is not true," Christine's voice was hard though she did not mean for it to be.

"You are quite right," the woman grinned and turned her back on Christine, walking to where she had a basket of sliced apples. Taking the entire thing in her hands she brought it over to the counter top and set it down. Christine did her best to keep her eyes level with the woman whose kind smile was making her feel too comfortable for her own good. "Have one lad; the master of the home has given me permission to use the leftovers however I wish."

"Thank you," Christine smiled and reached forward, taking one slice and eyeballing the woman cautiously.

"My name is Aleyenne, and you are Gregor, correct? I recall the vicomte Philippe de Chagny introducing you as such."

"Yes, I am Gregor, it is a pleasure to meet you Aleyenne," Gregor nodded and smiled.

Aleyenne had wonderfully large dark eyes. Her face was long and narrow with prominent cheekbones and a sharp nose. Her skin was the color of dark caramel while her hair was something more like the darkest silk. She was a slender and tall woman.

"What is troubling you?" Aleyenne asked, noticing that the small frown was still in place, "has someone been bothering you in the home?"

"Not in the home," Gregor smirked, "it is an unimportant matter."

"Nothing that troubles us is unimportant," she corrected, "if it were unimportant then it would not upset you so. While you do not have to talk about it – know that I will always have an open ear should you wish to discuss the matter."

"Aleyenne!" Philippe de Chagny's voice cut the peaceful air in two. Aleyenne stiffened in her seat and straightened up, for a long moment Christine could not read her expression, but the longer she stared the more it appeared to be something akin to nervousness.

Philippe strode into the room with a hard step and as soon as his eyes found Aleyenne a smile graced his lips.

"Yes, monsieur de Chagny?"

Philippe looked to 'Gregor' and grinned as he came forward and stood beside the slender woman. "How are you Gregor?"

"I am well sir, and I trust you are doing well?"

"I am, I am…" his eyes moved over to Aleyenne. Christine's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she noted a smirk playing at Aleyenne's face.

"Are you excited for the ball vicomte de Chagny?" Aleyenne asked.

"Certainly, we will have many guests."

"Yes, yes," she agreed demurely and then popped an apple slice into her mouth delicately, when she finished chewing she continued, "the Johnsons will be here, the Lerouxs… the Yarboughs… Jonathan Riley—

"Ah yes," Philippe's eyes narrowed and Aleyenne smirked, "Jonathan…"

Christine spoke up, "may I ask… is there something special about this Jonathan Riley."

"He is disgusting," Philippe muttered angrily. Casting a dark stare at Aleyenne who was smiling rather coyly. "Are you excited to see him and his family, Aleyenne?"

"Certainly," the cook smiled, "I find it entertaining whenever they pay a visit. He does so love my cooking. He has often requested that your father allow me leave so that I may go over his home and teach his cook how to make some of your own favorite dishes. He seems to enjoy the process of learning and has asked for private lessons—

"Hmph!" Philippe did not say anything else. He simply stormed out of the room without another glance back. Aleyenne smirked and put another apple slice into her mouth as Christine sat there with her mouth gaping. What had just occurred? She had never seen such an awkward exchange in her life.

"Aleyenne, may I ask you something?'

Aleyenne looked up at Christine and shrugged, nodding.

"Is there any particular reason why you purposely angered the vicomte?" Christine cocked her head to side, further illustrating her utter confusion, "are you trying to anger him?"

Aleyenne grinned and shrugged, "I was simply answering his question Gregor," then she held out the bowl, "more apples?"

**…**

Christine sighed heavily as she roamed the third floor of the home. She had finished the last of her work and her shift was over. Now she would return home, and sleep until tomorrow. The ball was only one day away.

It was as Christine was passing Philippe's study that she suddenly froze. Inside she could hear movement, and try as she might her curiosity got the better of her and she soon found herself pressing her ear to the wooden door.

At first she had to concentrate to hear and make out the voices inside, but soon it became apparent that it was Aleyenne and Philippe.

"Do you think that it is funny?!" Philippe was harshly whispering.

"Absolutely," Aleyenne responded quietly, "you are humorous when you get like this."

"This is not funny!"

"It is very funny that you think that I would sincerely want the company of that mongrel, darling," her voice became lower and Christine couldn't make out the next words but she heard what sounded like Philippe warning her to not do it again. Aleyenne spoke up then, "what do you plan to do if I do?"

Christine heard nothing for a long time. Then came the sound of soft moaning. Christine backed up quickly from the door and continued in a hurried manner down the hall.

Aleyenne and Philippe were… together!

Christine's eyes bulged at the realization. Surely his father had absolutely no idea about this.. or perhaps he did. He had made comments about Philippe chasing skirts. But that meant that Philippe flirted with multiple women. Was Aleyenne alright with this? Was she even aware?

Did Christine dare make a comment?

No, no… certainly not. These matters were not her business. But the consequences would be dire. She imagined if Monseiur de Chagny were to get wind of it Philippe would be in for a severe scolding, but the consequences would be worse for Aleyenne.

Was this why that study was so private? So that if Philippe was in there with Aleyenne, or anyone else, they would not get caught?

Christine's head spun with all the questions as she began making her way down the stairs at a rapid pace.

It was as Christine began to make her way to the landing step that she suddenly heard rapid footsteps behind her, at first she thought that perhaps it was Philippe. Had he heard her?

But as a female form rapidly passed her she realized that it was Ruella, sobbing.

"Ruella?!" Christine reached forward and took the woman's arm in her hand but Ruella quickly pulled away and whirled around to face her.

Ruella's eyes were red and swollen, her lips were puffy and for a moment all she did was stare. When she spoke her voice was cracking and hoarse, "what are you still doing here Gregor?"

"I… I was simply about to make my way out of the home. Are you alright?"

"Absolutely," Ruella lied. Christine could see through it easily. She also noticed that Ruella's normally neat hair was tangled and disheveled. As Ruella began making her way down the stairs Christine followed.

"I am also leaving."

Christine played clueless, "you seem rather unsettled. Are you certain that everything is alright?"

"Goodnight Gregor." And just like that Ruella was gone, ignoring Christine who went after her. Ruella left the home and shut the door in Christine's face, slowing down any progress she made in attempts to stop her.

When Christine opened the door Ruella was already at the first courtyard and was making her way through the gate. Without bothering to go after the woman Christine shut the door behind her and calmly strode towards the exiting gate. She breathed a soft sigh of relief to know that Raoul de Chagny was not there.

_How strange, _Christine thought as she walked down the street. She was aware that there were a number of weird things in that home. Secrets of some sort but she was completely caught off guard by the strange activities that she was privy to today. First there was the strange interaction between Aleyenne and Philippe. Then there was the sounds she heard coming out of the study.

Finally, there was the obvious mystery behind Ruella's sudden disheveled appearance. The woman always seemed to be immaculate, and orderly, and then she appeared to be almost on the brink of self control.

What had caused such a reaction in her?

Christine pondered on this and continued on.

**…**

Erik paced around the bedroom with a hard and quick step.

Christine had left without many words. He was unsure of whether or not he should go pick her up or let her walk home on her own. Try as he might he had been unable to think of anything but her proclamation about no longer wanting to live with him.

Was she trying to drive him mad? Certainly that was it.

"Why should it matter?" he muttered out loud, "if she does not wish to live with me then so be it. It is not my problem that the girl has no regard for how things are done. She would only hinder whatever progress I seek to make. Her and her damn morality… she stole from Javert the day she released me."

But that was just it, wasn't it? Her damn morality was what let him out of that cage and into the real world.

Suddenly without energy Erik dropped onto the bed and glared at his hands. He did not wish to leave her out. It would only torment him to not know how she was doing. _I will have to apologize, _he realized with some anger.

Well… if it meant some peace of mind then he supposed it wouldn't be too horrible. With that optimistic thought he lay back on the bed and locked his fingers under his head. He would wait for her, and she would agree to live with him.

Erik simply did not think he had it in him to simply let her go.

* * *

**Hello those of you who are still reading! I have to apologize from the bottom of my heart for my lack of updates - I think I owe you all an explanation otherwise it's going to look like I'm just being lazy.**

**A few days ago my parents basically decided that they were separating (divorcing if you will). My father (step father) and I are very close so it's been rather depressing to know that things are going to be very different very soon. My mother and I are moving out, it's kind of been defeating and it's taking a toll on my writing I want you all to know that I actually do have my chapters written (I am almost up to chapter thirty) it's just that I can't really even bring myself to edit. I don't know why. **

**Anyway, I will be giving you guys two more chapters today because I feel really bad about how bad I've been with my updates so it's like my sorry to you all. I hope you're all still here with me following along the crazy adventures of Erik and Christine. **

**-With Love, B.B. :) **


	27. Changes

Chapter XXVII

When Christine got to Nadir's home that night she trudged up to her bedroom in a rather sluggish manner after greeting the Persian. As she traveled up the stairs Christine began to wonder if Erik and she were perhaps gtting too comfortable in the man's home. Afterall, were they overextending their stay? She reminded herself to breach the subject with the Persian in the morning. It would not be becoming of her to start picking up Erik's rude manners already.

Upon opening the door to the bedroom she was not suprised to see Erik sitting there. His eyes followed her as she silently shut the door and stalked to the other side of the room. The tension was thick and she swore that she felt it crawling on her skin as she moved. But nontheless she simply ignored it and politely turned to him once she had set all her things down.

"Erik, I am very tired and would like to catch some rest, if you'd please allow me the bed tongiht I will be very greatful. Tomorrow night you can use it if you need to."

His amber eyes were stony as they locked with her blue gaze. Erik was looking much healthier, she noted. Now that they had a constant supply of food it seemed that he was gaining weight quickly and nicely. His arms seemed to be more filled out and while he remained slightly gaunt in appearance there was a new tone to his skin. It made him look like less of a corpse. Something about being tired also made her feel rather at ease suddenlly as she looked at him. Sshe felt proud of herself, proud that she had broke him out of his prison, proud that she had been able to provide him with the means by which to live out a life.

"I needed to speak with you," Erik started, "it is of the utmost importance." He paused and stood up to his fulL height. Instantly Christine steeled herself, knowing that if she did not she would look smaller and more meek then she really was, "I must ask that you forgive me for my rather snappish retorts as of late. I understand that you and I do not see eye to eye on certain matters but that certainly does not give me the right to behave on disrespectful terms." Erik had to willfuly retrain himself from gritting his teeth. It hurt to speak these words. "Do you accept my apology?"

Christine was confused.

_Erik is apologizing to me? _This fact made her feel rather awkward and so for a few silent moments all she could do was stare at him. Her composure was breaking down. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her life and another wanted to solemnly accept. She chose the latter.

"Yes Erik, I accept."

He nodded and then his jaw tightened, "and do you agree to remain at my side once I finish all the preperations for us to leave this place and return to the opera house."

Now that was another thing entirely... Could Christine do that? Live with this man who seemed to suprise her at every turn?

"Yes Erik," she decided quietly, eyeballing him warily, "I will go with you to the opera house."

"Good," he responded curtly and moved out of her way so that she could have access to the bed.

Erik found himself watching her like a hawk. Christine was magnetic, and he was realizing it more and more every day. There was something in the way she walked and the way that she spoke that made him want to be witness to it all. He never wished to miss one word of what she had to say. Everything interested him about her. But the reminder of not always being at her side brougt him to a new topic, one he was often curious about.

"How was your shift?"

"It was fine," Christine replied, climbing into the bed with exhaustion weighing heavy on her limbs, "however I expect that the night of the ball I will be leaving rather late. That home is so strange Erik," she mutered as she rolled over to face him. He was leaning against a wall with his hands clasped behind him. "it seems as if though every family member is hiding something."

"People are all decieving Christine, you should expect no less."

"But it seems to me that the fact that they are hiding things is obvious to everyone but them. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes. But have you considered that perhaps they simply do not wish to address the problem. Maybe they are perfectly aware of what is going on in their household and simply find it imprudent and address it. They would rather ignore it and pretend that they live a happy life."

Christine hummed in agreement and fought her closing eyes, "it won't be like that with us will it Erik?"

His attention perked up at this, "how do you mean?"

"We will not lie to one another, we will not decieve one another. Not when we move into our lair, correct?" Her voice was becoming a soft murmur. Her eyes closed and Erik cautiously stepped foward, dropping onto his heels and watching her as she drited into a soft slumber. Christine was very pretty when she allowed her features to relax, he was beginning to notice. Despite the roughness of her exterior he could see that if they were to fill out they would be very soft, delicate, unlike her.

"No Christine, it will not be like that."

Erik watched her for a few more minutes. He needed to perfect this home of theirs. The inspiration came quivkly and so brashly that he felt he needed fresh air. This girl was infecting every part of him and he did not mind. He would make their home just like her... intimidating, gentle, a strange mix of her. He knew that if it came to it Christine would seriously harm someone to survive, and he imagined that she would harm someone for him.

The fact that Erik could think that and not doubt it for a moment made him almost smirk. She was something else.

Nadir had come up with the fascinating plot to 'donate' a prop to the opera house. Erik decided that this would be the best way to get the contraption into the opera house walls. Then he could really start to work on their home.

Now he imagined everything else. He would have an organ, and a piano. He wanted candles for Christine's unaccoustomed eyes. He wanted dresses made out of the finest material for her, and food so that she might fill out her form. The more he stared at her the more inspiration came. A bed with a canopy for her, shoes that would fit properly, a tub so that she may scrub all the grime off of her flesh. A brush so that she could detangle her hair.

Yes, everything would go accordingly. He just needed more time. That is all.

**...**

In the morning Christine woke up and greeted Erik with a warm smile. She had a few minutes before she had to head to work her shift and so she decided to spend it in his company. Erik made her laugh without trying. She found his rather serious demeanor to be absoultely hysterical, and goaded him into saying things that made her laugh more.

"We should buy a cat, do you not agree?" She asked, watching his expression... anticipating a comment that would send her into fits of laughter.

"Absoultely not," Erik muttered and sipped his tea, Nadir watched Christine with a smirk, knowing what she was doing.

"But a cat would be a precious addition to our lair. Or perhaps a dog. Yes! We can get a poodle-

"Absoultely not, it will soil everything," Erik said, frowning at her, "it would keep me up at all hours of the night. Barking and mewling about who knows what. And I am not cleaning up after those filthy animals. At least a feline is decent and cleans itself. Dogs are simply disgusting."

Christine went into another fit of laughter and Erik rolled his eyes. She thought that he was unaware of how she teased him, but she was very wrong. He knew exactly what she was doing and only continued to make her laugh because he genuinely enjoyed the sound of her happiness. Knowing that he caused it only made him feel better. Inflated his ego.

"So," Nadir started and smirked, "Christine, you had something you wanted to ask of me?"

Christine nodded, remembering that upon waking up she had asked Nadir if she may ask him something later on. "Yes, I wanted to know if there was anything I could use to bathe and wipe this grime off of my skin."

"Yes," Nadir nodded, "I shall prepare a warm bath for you, wait one moment."

Christine and Erik continued to talk and he continued to make her laugh while they waited for Nadir. Erik cracked a smirk at Christine when she told him that she wished she could spend more time in his company than around the de Chagny's who set her on edge.

"Well except for Philippe," she smiled, "he's the flirt."

Erik's limbs tensed up at this revelation.

Controlling his strength Erik did his best to not break the teacup, "a flirt?" _Has he flirted with her? _It had never really occured to him that it was possible that somoene might take a romantic interest in Christine. The thought of Christine and another man was not something Erik had given much thought too. And he certainly did not want to. It was disturbing to him. Christine was not suppoused to be interested in anyone else. His chest began to tighten at the possibility. Christine taking romantic interests in others meant that she would one day wander off with one of those ridiculous romantics. Erik did not find this pleasing. At all.

"Yes, he flirts with one woman in particular, her name is Aleyenne. He seems to have taken a great interest in her. And last night before I left the home I heard things in his study... things his father would certainly not approve of, if you understand my underlying meaning," Christine smirked and Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Has he flirted with you-

"No, no!" She laughed, "keep in mind that I am still a male in their eyes."

"How long do you wish to keep up this pretense?" Eri kshifted, noting the sudden ease in his chest.

"For as long as is nessasary. I cannot exactly come clean now," she shrugged and then stood, "they would kick me out immediately for lying to them."

A few more minutes passed and Nadir eventually came back and told Christine that the bath was prepared. She left the two men alone and went upstairs to clean herself off before work.

Nadir took a seat in front of Erik and watched him very carefully for a few moments as the man stared off after Christine. She had long ago escaped his sight but still he watched the stairs as if she were standing there gazing back at him.

"Christine is a special girl," Nadir smirked as he sipped on his tea. Erik's eyes sliced over to the Persian. "You are very luckily to have found her."

"She found _me_." For a long moment Erik pondered what he would be like now if Christine had not gone in there and found him. "She released me and we were atacked by my captor. He offered me freedom. In return I was to let him have her."

Nadir raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes sharpened, "excuse me?"

"He would have used her the way he did me, except I believe he had more sexual intentions."

"Disgusting," Nadir sneered, "men like that ought to be hanged."

Erik nodded in agreement, "indeed."

When Christine emerged it was time for her to go. Erik found himself growing rather upset at the fact that he would not see her until that evening. Her presence brought him calm. When she was not there he rushed through everything he did as if somehow that would speed up time until he saw her once again. These feelings made him feel terribly uncomfortable.

Washed and freshened up Christine was not much to look at. Nadir knew this, but it seemed to him that Erik was stupified by the sight of her. While her skin was clean nothing else had changed. She was still a frail little thing with big blue eyes and dark hair. Yet, Erik was gawking.

Christine jogged down the stairs and did not notice the way Erik stared at her. But Nadir did. Erik's eyes had gone blank, as if he were staring into an abyss of some sort.

"I am ready to go," Christine smiled at Nadir while he nodded and stood. He was her escort. Christine turned to Erik and grinned, but then the smile fell away and she began to shift uncomfortably.

Erik could not believe it. Christine was a sight. While her features remained gaunt and she was still undernourished there was a certain vibrancy to her that left Erik mildly speechless. Her skin seemed to have a glow to it now that it was scrubbed. It sent a gentle shiver up his spine. Rather than continue to gawk Erik lowered his gaze and quietly cleared his throat.

"At what time should we be expecting you?"

Christine shrugged, "I am not exactly sure, there is still a lot to do around the mansion but I will be sure to do whatever I can as quickly as possible."

"And who will walk you here?"

"I can walk myself, but I must admit that after what happened the last time I would much rather you came for me."

"Then I will do just that," Erik nodded, "I will meet you just outside the gate, provided of course that you are alone."

Christine gave him a smile and a nod. "Goodbye Erik."

"Goodbye," _my Christine, _he thought as she grinned and waved at him.

Something changed in Erik, and he was not sure what.

* * *

**Oh, getting a little bit of butterflies in your tummy Erik? I sure hope so. Things are going to get pretty intense in the upcoming chapters, hold on to your hat's ladies and gent's! Thank you to FANTOMPHAN33 for putting up with my horrible habits! :) **


	28. Discussion

**_Chapter XXVIII_**

Christine arrived to work on time, as usual. She was strangely anxious today, and she knew exactly why.

After seeing Ruella in tears she had been nervous and interested in knowing what it was that caused her to be so upset. Had the woman been fired? Christine hoped that this was not the case. While Ruella was not her friend Christine found no comfort in the prospects of Ruella being fired. If she was fired then there was no one to guide her here.

She was also interested in knowing what Philippe would be like today. He had no idea that she had heard him, and Christine would rather it stayed that way, but nonetheless she was interested in watching his interaction with Aleyenne.

The home was bustling with activity when Christine first came inside. Philippe de Chagny was anxiously speaking with his brother and they hardly noticed 'Gregor' as made his way to the kitchen where she was hoping to find Ruella.

"This is all wrong," Christine heard Aleyenne speaking, "it tastes terrible."

"It tastes fine," Ruella commented just as Christine entered the kitchen.

Alleyenne and Ruella were standing in front of a platter, Ruella had a crepe in her hand and was setting it down carefully.

"You are being over analytical. It tastes just as it is supposed to and better."

"It is sour," Aleyenne wrinkled her nose just as they took notice of Christine, "Gregor, can you come here for a moment?"

"Yes, of course," Christine stopped forward and eyeballed the delicious looking dessert on the silver platter. She could see strawberry's and a sweet looking paste within the thin wafer. Aleyenne took one in her hand and handed it to Christine who took it gratefully "taste this and tell me exactly what you think."

"With pleasure," she mumbled back and took a bite out of it.

Ruella chuckled as Christine's eyes closed and a soft sigh escaped her. It was wonderful. A strawberry burst in her mouth as she bit into it and swirled her tongue against the creamy paste Aleyenne had used. It was _wonderful_.

"It is perfect," she mumbled and took another bite, relishing in the sweetness of the wafer. A cool cup of lemonade would have gone great with it.

"I do not like it, I am going to ask Monseiur de Chagny if I may prepare something else-

"No!"

They all looked to the doorway where Philippe de Chagny was just entering. Raoul followed behind his brother with a knowing smirk towards Christine who ducked her head and walked to Ruella's side. Philippe took one of Aleyenne's creations, almost protectively, and then bit into it.

"Do not dare," he warned her, "these are wonderful."

"Yes sir," she muttered and looked to Raoul, "would you like to try one sir?"

"Yes, thank you."

Christine watched in a stony silence as Raoul took the last of the dessert into his mouth. She made it a priority to ask Aleyenne for the recipe. _Perhaps Erik would like a bit of this._

"Come," Ruella spoke to Christine as she swallowed the last of the food. Raoul's eyes were on them like a hawk, the blue was shining at her, "we have many things to do today." Ruella gave a polite curtsy and Gregor hastily escaped the room. Raoul smirked as he chewed and Philippe kept his eyes trained on Aleyenne who was glaring at her ingredients.

**…**

"It worked," Nadir grinned as he burst in through the front door. Erik looked up from where he was sitting with a slight frown on his face, "they accepted the boat and it is now in the walls of the opera house. I must admit that I do not know how you intend to bring it up into that room that you had mentioned but I am certain that you will find a way."

Erik analyzed Nadir carefully as the man set down his hat and loosened his cravat from around his throat. _I will need to remind myself __to__ask him to teach me the art of that._

"The managers were quite enthusiastic about the donation," Nadir admitted and took a seat, "but I must admit that I could only tolerate them for so long. Take caution in extorting money from those two. They are quit greedy and I doubt that they will simply crave to your whims and desires."

"Let me worry about that." Erik closed the book he was reading and continued, "I must ask one more thing of you."

"What is that?"

"I would appreciate it if you could gather as many gowns as a lady requires. Christine will be staying with me and her clothing is hardly appropriate. After she and I have moved into the opera house I imagine that she will quit working in the de Chagny mansion. Christine has never been dressed as she deserves-

"As she deserves?" Nadir grinned devilishly, "how does she deserve to be dressed Erik?"

"In the finest silks that France has to offer. It is the least that I can do after all that she has sacrificed for me." Nadir could hear that Erik was keeping his voice as monotone as possible.

"It seems to me that you care for the girl." Nadir ignored the flash in Erik's gaze, "but has it occurred to you that Christine is not that materialistic Perhaps she would enjoy something else. Something that she might cherish in her memory."

"Enlighten me then Mr. Montague-

"As in Romeo Montague? Wonderful," Nadir rolled his eyes and Erik continued.

"What would you have me do?"

"Perhaps you can give her something involving music. I hear the two of you practice and it is clear to me that you have a vast knowledge of music. Perhaps you can play something for the girl. I am certain that Christine would adore such a thing."

_Would she? _Erik wondered with a sleepy gaze, _Christine is not a materialistic __female__That is clear. But I wonder if she would enjoy my music. Am I the bigger fool for believing that Nadir might be right? But what would I play for her..._

Erik sighed and nodded, "I will see. But nonetheless she needs gowns. I will pay you back handsomely for all you have done. But I must have Christine dressed in something other than the torn clothes she wears day in and day out."

"I will do my best to acquire only the best of what France has to offer."

"Good..." Erik paused, "and be certain to get her a cloak. Preferably blue." _Christine would look beautiful in blue._ "How many hours until Christine returns?"

"She has only been gone for three hours, Erik."

_And yet it feels like three days. The night cannot come fast enough. _

**…**

It was silent in the mansion that night. Most things were finished and tomorrow was the day of the ball. Christine was given the job ensuring that things were in their proper place while the ball was going on and making sure that the staff had everything they needed. M. de Chagny did not want to embarrass the family with the sight of the uncomely lad and so gave him that job instead of something that required him to be in the face of guests.

Christine quietly made her way up the stairs and towards M. de Chagny's office to bid him farewell as she prepared to depart for the night. She drew closer and closer and put her hand on the doorknob but suddenly stilled.

"How dare you?" The quiet hiss sounded. It was not male, but female. "I have given you all that you could ask for and you dare to disrespect me in my own home."

"This is not _your_ home," the growl sounded, this was clearly Philippe and Raoul's father, "I am the man of this home. You do not command me, you ungrateful woman. I am the one that raised those boys while you were drinking your sorrows away in that damn room-

"Drinking my sorrow away?" The woman hissed, suddenly enraged. Christine's eyes widened as her feet remained locked to the floor, "I lost a child that day, or have you forgotten that? I had a son who was taken from me!"

"You are drunk, get out of my sight."

"Damn you. Damn you a thousand times-

"Get out!"

"You are no husband of mine, you are a coward sent to ruin my life from the depths of hell!"

"Your womb is hell!"

_Good God! _Christine clapped a hand over her mouth... by the sounds of it something had happened to this woman's child... _That is cruel..._

"Forgive me..." M. de Chagny's voice had softened considerably.

"No." The woman responded, stoic and curtly, "I will be leaving now."

Christine backed farther and farther away from the door and sprinted down the hall as the sounds of the woman's heels clicked closer to the door of the office. Who was the woman in that room? Was it his wife? Christine had yet to see her but in paintings. As Christine reached the end of the hall she heard the door open and close. She looked behind her briefly and caught sight of the woman.

She was staring straight at Christine with a hot green gaze. Her blonde hair was in a disarray and her face looked tired yet all the youth and beauty that the paintings had captured remained. Her lips were red and there were large tear tracks on her face. She wore a pale pink gown and her elegant figure stiffened under the stare of Christine.

Without another word Christine whirled around and jogged down the stairs.

_A strange home indeed! _

**...**

"Settle down," Erik muttered as Christine ranted on and on about all that she had heard in the de Chagny mansion. Her excitement in telling the story amused and annoyed him. She had worked a long shift and it seemed to him that while she should have been tired she was anything but that. As they walked down the cool streets of Paris Christine continued.

"It was so strange Erik! Imagine what it was like to be privy to such a thing. And their mother is absolutely beautiful, it is almost unearthly. It was almost inhuman!"

"I am certain that you are exaggerating," they turned a corner and Erik spared a glance at Christine, "certainly she was not so beautiful that it is cause for this reaction in you."

"My reaction is in response to all the secrecy of the de Chagny home, not necessarily her face." Christine became quiet for a moment as she became trapped in thought. Erik seemed to not care for beauty at all, and it made her wonder exactly what it was that he was hiding beneath the mask. Certainly it was a deformity of some sort .But it seemed to her that if it was some sort of deformity that then it would be cause for him to value beauty more. After all, did he want to be 'beautiful'? _She_ wanted to be beautiful. Everyone did.

"Erik, may I ask you something?"

"Yes." She looked up at him then as they walked, noticing the handsome features that were exposed, knowing that if she were on the other side of his mask that she would see nothing but white.

"Why do you wear that mask?"

Th question made Erik's fingers clench. She noticed his jaw clenching in an effort to remain calm but it seemed to her that he was failing a bit as he spoke through his teeth. "Is it not obvious that there is something wrong with my face?"

"I just... I suspect it might not be as horrible as you believe it to be."

"It caused my mother to abandon me Christine, how could it not be so horrible?" His eyes flashed as he turned his gaze on her, "you can never understand the things I have been through because of this curse of mine. But I do not expect that you would. You may have not have lived a sheltered life but your world and mine have been very different up to this point. I was not blessed with perfect features like you and I have paid dearly for that."

"_Perfect?" _she resisted the urge to laugh but a small nervous chuckle escaped her as she considered his words. _He thinks my features are perfect? _"Erik I assure you that my features are far from perfect. My face is skeletal."

"And yet everyone can see the beauty underneath," he spoke in a dangerous tone now. Christine's eyes widened slightly. Erik was certain that eventually when Christine pulled off the facade of being male that she would have many admirers. Especially when she took the stage. They will think that she wants to be saved by one of them in the crowd and they would do their best to sweep her off her feet.

_I will be left alone, _he thought as Christine watched him with confusion. _They will take Christine away and if I see her it shall be in secrecy. But then again, she will be under constant supervision, they will make sure to make her a proper lady. She will be a stranger to me and I will come to hate her for it. _

"Erik..." her voice was soft and she stopped walking. Erik turned to stare at her a few feet away. His eyes were unreadable, but Christine could tell that something was worrying him by the delicate frown on his face. While the mask covered half of his expression she still saw the little crease between his brows. "What is making you say such things?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You are speaking as if though something is worrying you. You say 'everyone can see the beauty underneath' with a pessimistic tone. I've known you long enough to know that something is on your mind. I demand to know what it is at this moment."

He regarded her in silence for a few seconds. Wondering if it was a good idea to say anything at all. Whenever they spoke things became an argument. He chose his words carefully.

"You will take the stage in the coming years."

"Yes."

"And when you do there will be many men who wish to have you. They will think that you are like every performer, looking to become a part of their society so that they may have you and do whatever they wish to you. But you are not that way, and it has just occurred to me that the lure of money may one day take you from where you really belong." _By my side... My goodness, _Erik thought, _I am losing my mind._

"That will not happen Erik. I am dedicated to our music... and us." She blushed hard at her words and then ducked her gaze, "I thought you understood that."

"Your mind may change."

"It won't."

"We will see. But enough of this," he raised his eyes to the stars and then back down to her. He took notice of the shimmer in her eye and did his best to not stare, despite how much he wanted to. _Damn... _"it is cold and your throat is not protected. We must get inside."

**…**

The next morning Christine woke up with excitement in her body. Today was the day of the ball and that meant that she would be privy to all the activities of those in elite society. While she knew that she was not meant to partake in them simply being around them made her feel somewhat excited. She imagined that they would be playing music, and she could not wait to see the people in all their wonderful clothing. And the ladies would certainly be dressed beautifully.

"I will be back late I imagine," she told Nadir and Erik as they all sipped on some tea. Erik began to suspect that Nadir was using he and Christine as taste-testers for recipes he was crating on his own. They were not bad at all.

"I will pick you up then," Nadir said, stirring his tea, "Erik will be at the opera house I imagine." He looked at the clock then and took their cups, "I will set these down and then we shall be leaving."

"Yes," Erik nodded as Nadir left the room. "I will see you in the morning then Christine."

Her face crumpled a bit. While she and Erik fought often she still found it unbelievably upsetting when she did not see him. "well... alright then. Please be safe on your way back. I would hate for you to encounter those people that took my things." Her brow furrowed. All the bad things happened at night. Her father had been killed in the night and she had almost been beaten to death as well.

Erik stood as he noticed Christine's sour expression and strode forward until she looked up at him. Her big blue eyes widened when he crouched in front of her. He was so tall that they were still face to face even when he stooped so low while she remained seated.

"What worries you?"

"Those people," she said seriously, "what if they come after you Erik?"

"I will only be on the streets for a matter of minutes before I must leave," he flexed his fingers, not daring to reach out and brush away a strand of her thin hair from her face, "most of the night I will be inside the walls of the Opera House ensuring that things are as they need to be and moving instruments below the surface."

"So quickly Erik, are you certain that that is wise?"

"I must do everything as fast as I can. Nadir will bring a few things in the night to ensure that I can smuggle in the beds and things like that. I would rather leave the smaller things for later. We have the opportunity now to bring in whatever we wish. It might be difficult later on."

She nodded, understanding his logic. "I trust that you will remain safe."

_Safe... _Erik eyeballed Christine's soft expression. She cared about him, and that was very clear to him now. It made something swell in his chest and for a moment he thought he might moan with the discomfort between his ribs. What was she doing to him? This was... strange. This was foreign and unwarranted.

_There is no logical reason as to why she would care... _he tried to convince himself as he rose to his feet and turned his back to her, walking towards the chimney that Nadir had lit. The Persian had walked back into the room and was making talk with Christine as Erik kept his back turned to them. His amber gaze was stony as he watched the flames lick at the wood. _This is dangerous a territory. I do not know how to address this. Do I address it at all? Does this mean that I must now take more precaution? She would undoubtedly be hurt if something should happen to me. That is how these things work, isn't it? _

He felt like a wild animal. Even his thought process seemed ridiculous to him. _I must remain neutral. I cannot encourage her caring emotions. They will make her weak. They will be her ruin and then mine. _

"Goodbye Erik," Christine murmured by the door, looking back at him with a kind smile.

"Goodbye Christine," he murmured, looking over at her and nodding once. She gave him a bright grin and closed the door with Nadir following after her.

Erik stood there. Thinking over what had just occurred. She cared for him. Yes, that was clear. But did he return the feelings?

"I must," he spoke aloud, "for if something should happen to Christine..."

He didn't even want to think about it. He stopped his sentence and shook his head. The thought of someone hurting her made his muscles twitch. He could remember with perfect clarity the threat that that monster had posed, to use Christine and set him free.

The annoyance he felt then was more like a light feather compared to the rage he felt now just at the thought. It exhausted him.

But Erik would soon come to learn that sometimes people cannot be protected, no matter what.

* * *

**:o Aw, Erik. Well, let's hope nothing to bad happens... nah, we all know we want something bad to happen! Anyway, review darlings, only if you wish to :) **


	29. The Ball

**Chapter XXIX**

When Christine entered the de Chagny mansion she was shocked. Things were in a state of absolute calm. No one was running around madly searching for something, everything was in its place, and for the most part employee's were even lounging around in a sense. Simply speaking with one another casually. Her thoughts went back to Erik, she wondered what he would think if he saw all of this.

In the kitchen Christine found Aleyenne there with a few maids.

"We must keep the food flowing out of here in a logical order. Mary you will take the appetizers first. Susan you must ensure that everyone has exactly what they need. I do not want to hear Monsieur de Chagny complaining that his friends do not have the wine they wanted or anything of the sort. Are we understood? Especially about the food. Everyone gets one."

"Understood your highness," Susan, whose blonde hair was tied back into a severe bun responded. Her eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"Is there a problem?" Aleyenne asked, cocking her head to the side and crossing her arms. Immediately Christine sensed that there was some tension between the two women, and logically she imagined that it had to do with Philippe de Chagny. After all, what else would it be about? Mary, who had her dark hair in a bun also, shifted uncomfortably. Her dark eyes went to the floor and she bit her lip. Susan on the other hand glared at Aleyenne from across the counter top with a look of absolute hate.

"Yes, one in particular. While we are out there doing all these things what will you be doing?"

"Why is that any of your business?" Aleyenne shifted her weight and gave the woman a truly confused look, "I was not aware that I owed you any answers."

"We will be working night in and out to be pleasant and you will be doing what? Sitting here eating?"

"I certainly hope so," Aleyenne smirked, "but the truth of the matter is that I do not know what I will be doing. I have cooked all through the night and the morning. If the family wishes me to rest then it would have been a most deserved one, do you not agree?"

"No," Susan glared, "it is your _job_ to cook. Why should you rest."

"That does not mean that I do not grow tired," Aleyenne's tone darkened, "I do however grow weary of your inquisition. Tend to your duties." Aleyenne turned her back on the woman and went to a chopping board where a large knife waited.

Susan glared at Aleyenne once and Mary hurried out of the tense kitchen while Susan followed her past Christine, but then she stopped and turned to Aleyenne who was cutting up a banana. "You've scorned me for the last time."

"I doubt that," Aleyenne smirked at her and waved her away. Christine's eyes widened as Susan cursed under her breath and stomped out of the room. "I hardly noticed you standing there Gregor," Aleyenne smirked softly and turned to face him.

"I did not wish to interrupt... the conversation."

"Haha!" Aleyenne laughed and shook her head as she popped a piece of the fruit into her mouth and then jerked her chin towards the stool. Christine went over and took a seat, "conversation? I would hardly call that a conversation."

"What was it then?" She settled onto the stool and watched Aleyenne as she grabbed a bowl and started chopping up more fresh fruits.

"Do you call talk with an infant a conversation? Or mindless babble?"

Christine laughed at this and nodded, understanding her point. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course Gregor," Aleyenne smiled and brought the cutting board with all the fruits closer to Christine whose mouth salivated. Aleyenne moved on to chopping the cantaloupe.

"Well... is there something that Susan holds against you? It seemed as if though there was something more going on."

Aleyenne shrugged, "she and I simply to not see eye to eye on matters... it is all childish."

"Oh, I see." _She doesn't want to speak of this... _"Also, last night I saw something which I believe I was not supposed to."

At this Aleyenne's hand stiffened and in turn her hand came down too hard on one of the fruits. The knife clattered onto the board and she quickly picked it up, smiling shakily, "my hand slipped. What did you see?"

"Madam de Chagny... she was arguing," Christine had lowered her voice, "with Monsieur de Chagny."

Aleyenne raised a brow at this and speedily put all the fruits in a bowl and then gave the bowl to Christine, "eat." She commanded as she began to chop other fruits. Christine thanked her and watched her contemplative expression. "It is not often that she leaves her room."

"They were yelling at one another quite fiercely," Christine shrugged, "something about a child..."

"Yes... but you must not repeat those things to anyone else. No one is supposed to know about that."

Christine's eyes narrowed and Aleyenne's shoulders dropped, knowing that Christine had realized the flaw in her logic, "then how do you know of this child?"

"Whispers, sweet boy," Aleyenne smiled offhandedly, "mere whispers."

**…**

"Good God," Christine whispered as the first of the guests began to arrive that evening. The gowns were absolutely breathtaking. The suits as well. All the men looked stylish and the women looked elegant. Christine admired with smiles and lighted blue eyes. Completely aware of the fact that she was gawking at the beautiful fabrics. It seemed to her that the women liked her jealous and admiring stare. They would catch her peeking her head from the kitchen ever so often.

_What would Erik think if he saw me in one of those gowns one day? _She wondered quietly, _he would probably not notice. I'd look absolutely terrible. _

The thought saddened her, and as the daughters of the wealthy, some younger then she, started to arrive she felt sorrow creeping in. They all looked beautiful and lavish, she looked like a joke and was secluded to admiring from the kitchen because Monsieur de Chagny did not wish to upset his guests.

"Don't stare at them so hard." Aleyenne smiled softly, "they only enjoy our envy more. They are having enough fun for the night."

"They all look splendid..." Christine turned her head to Aleyenne, "how often do the de Chagny's do this?"

"These balls? Oh, at least once every two months. It keeps them on people's lips. And asserts their position as one of the wealthiest families in Paris."

"Amazing."

"Yes," Aleyenne nodded.

Philippe de Chagny suddenly strode into the room with a bright grin on his face. Christine blinked at how charming he looked as he roughly ruffled her hair and then skated towards Aleyenne who rolled her eyes and smirked. It seemed to Christine that they were not being very careful with their obvious flirtation. "How do I look?" He grinned, spreading his arms and doing one slow turn. The suit was very well fitted, and he wore it with a blue cravat.

"You look very handsome M. Philippe," Aleyenne curtsied politely.

"Thank you," he grinned and grabbed a glass of wine off the table. He took a large swig and then grinned at Gregor, "you look bored."

"I am not," Christine blushed, "I have been in Aleyenne's company."

"She is wonderful company is she not."

Aleyenne's eyes widened warningly at Philippe who stared at her with a bright gleam in his eye and a sheepish grin.

"My brother is in need of assistance," Philippe told Christine, still staring at Aleyenne, "he shall be on the third floor. He wanted it to be you Gregor,."

"Oh..." Christine's eyes widened. "M. de Chagny wished me to stay out of sight-

"I know, but right now my brother requested your presence."

Christine cast Aleyenne a worried glance and nodded, knowing that she was dismissed.

Quietly, and with her eyes on the stairway Christine began to make her way through the dining room where a few gentleman were speaking and then through to the main area. The scent of perfumed skin and all the delicacies that Aleyenne had made lingered through the air to the point where she was almost dizzy. As she tried to make it through the throng of people Christine began to lose her way and was forced to look up. They did not seem to notice her. No one moved to make way for the petite girl who was politely trying to squeeze in between the spaces of the large gowns the ladies wore.

"Excuse me madam," Christine would say over and over as she made an attempt to get to the stairs. But the more she tried the more she failed. They just did not care to make room for her.

Her face was turning red with both embarrassment and anger. It was just as Christine was going to shove her way past someone that suddenly a hand went around her arm and began pulling her aside.

**…**

"This does not seem safe," Nadir shook his head with paranoia as Erik pulled the boat down the long tunnel of what would soon be his home.

"What does not seem safe about it?"

"I can hardly see for starters," Nadir glared, "and how shall Christine make her way across these dank halls. She will get lost!"

"She will come to learn the layout of our home like the back of her own hand."

"Are you certain?" Nadir stopped as the sound of Erik's foot hitting water sounded, "because it seems to me that only one of you can see in the darkness."

"Her eyes will adjust."

Erik proceeded to push the boat into the water and after waiting for Nadir to climb in he followed suit and began rowing.

"She is quite a girl, is she not?" Nadir asked, prying. "It seems to me that the two of you are becoming more and more like a cohesive team instead of just two individuals seeking to argue at every turn."

Erik did not respond to this.

"Certainly you are aware of her affection for you."

"Whatever Christine feels is her business and hers alone. It is not my place to try and discern her emotions. I have no need to do that."

Nadir laughed. It echoed all around them as he held the lantern in front of the boat so that Erik could see, "you are interested and you know it."

Erik did his best to keep composure. But the more Nadir spoke the more he wanted to strangle the man.

Luckily for him Nadir did not speak for the rest of the boat ride. The gentle swaying motion brought him to a state of relaxation. Soon they began to see what appeared to be rocky pavement and Erik brought the boat to a stop alongside the ground.

Nadir stepped out first and Erik followed. Nadir was surprised at Erik display of strength as he pulled the boat out of the water so that it would not drift away. Erik made a mental note to build some sort of post so that he would not have to drag it out of the water every time. He would simply tie it.

"It is quite large," Nadir noted, as he and Erik walked along the path set out. It was like a curving C with the body of water serving as a bay of some sort. While all remained generally dark for Nadir Erik could see very well.

He began to map out exactly where everything would go.

"Candles," he muttered as he walked around what would serve as his own room. It was a large U shaped cave, "I am going to need a lot of candles."

"Indeed," Nadir agreed.

Erik and Nadir made their way back towards the boat about an hour later. Nadir had been going on about Erik's idea to build traps. He was not in agreement.

"That is dangerous. It is absolutely ridiculous. No one will venture down here. There is no reason as to why anyone would have to. Are you listening to what you are saying? Have you one mad? Someone could be hurt!"

"That is exactly my point. They should not wander into my home."

"You have not moved in yet!" Nadir snapped as Erik pushed the boat back into the water. "If you-

"Hush!" Erik hissed suddenly.

His ears perked up as he heard ragged breathing. For a long moment they both remained silent and then Erik stood up straight and began marching towards the sound which came from the other side of the the body of water.

Nadir followed quietly and dimmed the lantern. Erik could see without it and already noticed a huddled figure. He felt his teeth gritting with anger at the intrusion.

But then he stopped. Quickly he snatched the lantern and turned it off completely. Nadir said nothing, knowing that something was going on. His heart was in his throat as he considered what could be going through Erik's head. He was blind to everything around them and his thoughts were rampant with ideas of what it is that Erik had found.

Before him and yet a few feet away there was a person. Her hair was a mess and her body was tall, lanky, and she was huddled and quivering. How had he missed her before? While he had not scourged every single nook and cranny of the place it seemed irrational to him that he should miss her. _She is well versed in hiding then. _

"_Woman,_" Erik started. His voice was a serious, deep and echoing sound throughout the cave. Nadir tensed and stared at him in shock, realizing that he was speaking to someone who he could not see without the aid of the light, _"you have imposed upon my home. I must ask you to leave and never return lest you wish to be strangled." _

"I am sorry," the woman cried. Nadir's eyes widened at the returning voice. "I-I- I have nowhere to go."

"_That is no concern of mine," _Erik returned, now picking out a her form better as she came to a shaky stand. Erik noticed something else... someone else. Huddled behind her. _"Is that a child?" _

"My daughter... Sir," the woman looked for him in the darkness but could make out nothing, "please... we have nowhere to go."

"Mama," the smaller voice spoke up, "is it a ghost?"

Erik raised a brow at this. The woman answered, "I do not know sweetling," her eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, looking for any semblance that her daughter might be wrong.

"_Quite right child," _Erik spoke, suddenly clenching his fists as he considered that the two might be out on the street for the night. _"You will sleep here for the night. Come the morning I expect you to tell the managers of the opera house that you wish to work doing anything you can as long as they provide you with sufficient funds to eat and find a proper home. If they fail to do this then tell them the Opera Ghost will be paying them a visit. _

"...Ghost?" The woman's eyes widened, "but... they will not buy that!"

Nadir and Erik were already making their way to the boat. Nadir was in complete shock and did not say anything as Erik grabbed the lantern and kept it very dim. From where the woman stood she could not see anything at all except a faint yellow light and the sway of a cape. To her horror she saw the yellow light, which obviously belonged to the ghost drifting across the lake. _The ghost walks on water! _The woman thought.

In the boat Nadir stared up at Erik as he rowed. "...Do you think the opera managers will buy her tale?"

"They will regret it if they do not." Erik stated.

As the yellow light left the sights of the woman she grabbed her daughter's hand and turned to the tunnel behind her, "Meg, I believe we have just met the Opera Ghost."

**…**

"Unhand me!" Christine pulled her arm away from the strong grip that had led her to the second floor. She whirled around in anger and faced Raoul de Chagny who was smiling cockily at her, "how dare you?"

"Very easily," Raoul smirked, "had my father seen you I imagine things would have been much worse. Come now, do not be angry with me Gregor, I only wish to speak to you for a few minutes."

Christine tried to keep the glare out of her eye, remembering who it was that she was speaking to, "of what sir?"

"Of you. What is your real name? Come, tell me, I am very eager to know." Raoul smiled dashingly and she was stupefied for a moment by his beauty. His blue eyes shined and the red cravat he wore made a nice contrast against his black suit.

"Gregor is my name, sir," she swallowed.

"No, no," he laughed, "your _real_ name, darling."

"Gregor."

Raoul laughed and leaned back against the wall of the hallway. His eyes sparkled, "what do I have to do to get you to tell me your real name?"

"My name is Gregor," Christine shrugged, knowing that he knew that she was lying but caring very little.

"Fine, I will put it to you like this, you can ask one thing of me and I will answer you honestly. In return, you give me your name."

Christine did not know what compelled her to react to such a childish game. But she nodded and wrapped her arms around herself.

Raoul watched Christine carefully as she thought of what to ask him. He found the girl named 'Gregor' to be stunning. Especially her eyes. She seemed mostly unaware of the way he watched her, analyzing the soft curves of her eye lids and the gentle sweep of her eyelashes.

"Are you aware of Susan's unfair attitude towards Aleyenne?" She asked.

"Of course," he nodded, "Susan despises Miss Aleyenne."

"Why is that?"

"You got to ask one question," he grinned playfully. When she scowled in return he rolled his eyes and told her the truth, "Susan has been infatuated with my brother since the first time she met him," he looked down the hall, "on second thought, let us walk, I would hate for someone to overhear this." Christine nodded and walked at his side as he continued, "Philippe returned her affection at first. But my brother is fickle and that is something that she has never been able to grasp. Philippe told her so himself. He is a man that changes his mind very often. Susan did not listen to his warning.

"As expected Philippe lost his interest in her and she found herself alone and without his company. As you've no doubt figured out by now my brother is quite the flirt. When Aleyenne came into the picture however it seems that all those years of playful flirtations went out the window. Now he pretends that he chases all the skirt in this home but that is to make certain that his father does not pick Aleyenne out. In truth, she is the only one that he cares for."

"And Susan dislikes Aleyenne for this?"

"Yes," Raoul nodded, and once they reached the end of the hall he leaned against the window there and crossed his arms A look of serious concentration passed over his handsome face, "Philippe has been slipping up."

"What do you mean?"

"He is becoming irrational. He forgets that this house has ears and eyes everywhere. He flirts too openly with Aleyenne." Then his eyes went to 'Gregor's', "now, what is your name?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat she answered. "Christine."

"Christine..." Raoul felt her name on his lips, "fitting."

The rest of the night passed without incident and Christine was joined by Raoul wherever she went. When she had made her way back to the kitchen Philippe was still there conversing with Aleyenne who was trying very hard to keep it professional. But Philippe was not. He would laughed too loudly and stare at her too longingly.

Finally at the end of the very long night after Christine had helped clean up she began to head out the door and was not at all surprised to find Raoul running up to her side as she left the main gate of the mansion.

"Do you intend to follow me wherever I go?" Christine asked with a smirk at her lips. Raoul grinned.

"Is it a problem if I do?"

"Yes," she nodded, enjoying his playful demeanor, "I have someone meeting me."

"Oh? And who would that be?" Raoul raised a brow. The thought that perhaps she had a man waiting for her to return to him at night bothered him.

"That is none of your concern, Monsieur," she grinned and turned to face him as they reached the corner of the street.

From where he stood Erik watched Raoul and Christine interact. It was clear to him that the male had some sort of interest in her. He was leaning forward and laughing a little too much for Erik's taste. Not only that but he continued to close the gap between he and she.

"Goodnight Raoul," Christine smiled kindly.

"Goodnight, Christine." Raoul took her hand in his and bent at the hips, pressing his lips to her knuckles tenderly. A hard shiver rocked up her spine and he grinned as he noticed it.

Erik watched Raoul walk away with a half satisfied smirk on his face. Christine stood there, watching after him and blushing. Erik was beginning to see red.

This could not be happening.

* * *

**:o Oh wow! Now we're getting the jealousy ball rolling , and as much as we hate to admit it - a jealous Erik is the best Erik.**

**Anyway, thank you all so much for the kind messages you all sent me, I really do feel a lot better to know that there are people out there who are so kind that they really care. :) LOTS OF HUGS AND KISSES! PIZZA AND PEPSI! NUTELLA AND CANDY!**

**:) **


	30. Consequences

Chapter XXX

The next day was filled with excitement and exhaustion. Christine was finally going to be able to simply relax as she had nothing else to do for the remainder of the day. While a part of her was filled with joy at the prospects of spending the rest of the day with Erik and Nadir, another half of her remained wary. Last night – after Raoul had left her presence Erik had revealed himself. He seemed tense and unhappy.

"Isn't he always?" Christine whispered as she moved up and off the bed. A small yawn escaped her and she clutched the mattress as black dots appeared in her vision. She needed to get this under control and eat better, she knew that it had to do in part with that. Perhaps today she would practice cooking, that was of course if Nadir allowed her use of the kitchen.

Downstairs Erik and Nadir were talking about the lair. Christine could hear Erik's bitter tone as he discussed the slow progress they were making.

"The candles, how many will you need?" Nadir asked just as Christine came into view. Her light footsteps were inaudible on the steps and despite the fact that Erik had his back to her he seemed to pick up the sound of her steps because he addressed her instead of Nadir's question.

"Good afternoon Christine," Erik turned slightly in his chair as she glided to his side, "you slept for a long while. We would have woken you but I deemed it appropriate to let you rest."

"Thank you, and good afternoon to the two of you as well," she smiled and looked down at Erik's cup. "Erik do you eat?"

"Of course I eat," he countered defensively.

"Well why is it that I never see you eating. You cannot survive off of tea alone."

"She is right," Nadir agreed with a grin, knowing that he was making Erik annoyed, "I have food here you know. I can make you something-

"Actually," Christine broke in, smiling nervously, "I was wondering if I could cook today."

Erik raised a brow and turned his face up towards her, "I was not aware that you knew how to cook." Christine gave him a sheepish smile that made his amber eyes light up a bit, "you do not know how to cook."

"No, but I was hoping Nadir would help me," she turned her stare to Nadir. Erik hated the loss of eye contact with her but dealt with it in silence. "I am very eager to learn, that is if you are willing to teach me."

Nadir nodded and grinned, "I am an excellent cook."

"Perfect!" Christine grinned.

The rest of the day passed wonderfully. Christine was always under the watchful eye of Erik and Nadir as Nadir taught her some simple but efficient recipes. Erik was more then pleased to see that Christine followed the directions perfectly and she seemed proud of herself as she cooked. He was proud of her as well and he could only watch with a watering mouth as she made hot cakes with sausages. The scent was making him almost impatient.

When the food was ready Christine served some to Erik and Nadir and then herself. She watched anxiously as Erik took the first bite. Instantly his tongue was saturated in the wonderful taste of the food and he did his best to not lose composure. Truthfully he wanted to devour the meal completely but knew that it would make him look like an animal.

"How is it?" Christine asked as she stared at him, her eyes were nervously flashing to the plate in his hand to the movement of his jaw as he chewed. She waited until he swallowed.

"It's splendid," he nodded with approval, noticing the way that her eyes lit up. He looked down at his bowl quickly, afraid to stare for too long. "It's good."

"That's great, thank you so much Nadir," Christine grinned as he stuffed his face and nodded at her, "I am so glad that you like it Erik. I will be able to cook delicious treats for us both."

"I am looking forward to that,' Erik admitted, also wondering what appliance he might sneak into the cave so that they may prepare meals. That was something he had not really thought on much and now the question was becoming a very serious one. How would they eat? The idea of coming out every time they wanted to eat was one that Erik did not like the prospects of. _How have I not thought on this... _

"Erik," Christine's eyes became confused, "are you alright?"

"Yes," he nodded, not wanting to worry her but not wanting to hide it either. "I am just wondering how we will eat when the time comes. The lair is below ground and I do not think we will have the ability to sneak any cooking appliance into it any time soon."

"Well I can gather food from above ground and just bring it –

"Do you intend to be above the ground often?" Nadir asked. Erik looked to Christine with the same question in his eye.

"I do not know," she answered truthfully. "I do not know..."

The rest of the conversations were of a lighter nature. Erik admitted that he wanted to continue to train Christine especially when they were in the depths of the opera house as this provided him with the perfect ambiance to focus solely on her voice. Christine blushed and did not respond as Nadir asked Erik about his thoughts on certain composers of the time period. Erik admitted that he did not know many composers of the time but that he would do his best to educate himself on them once he had the opportunity. With that in mind he also decided that they would need a bookcase in the lair.

Christine grew to really enjoy listening to Erik's thoughts on things. He was filled with a depth that she had been completely unaware of. While his ideas and his thoughts were straightforward and to the point with no apology behind any of them it was their intense nature that made her want to know more about his opinion on things.

When it grew late Christine was drifting to sleep. Nadir had departed a long time ago and was in his room resting. Erik watched her for a long time as they spoke quietly. Her eyes were drooping and she was fighting off the dreams like a warrior.

"What are your thoughts on God?" She whispered.

"There is no God." He spoke quietly, leaning back in his chair and staring at her as her eyes widened a bit before drooping again, "do you believe that there is a God?"

"Yes," she nodded sleepily. Erik stood quietly as her eyes closed and she slumped to the left slightly, "Papa said he would send me the angel of music."

"There are no angels Christine," Erik murmured as he dropped onto his heels and stared at her.

"You can't say that," she shook her head and opened her eyes very slightly, his amber eyes shined into her blue orbs. "You don't actually know that."

"Christine, the universe is at odds with your religious beliefs," carefully he reached up and dared to touch her hair, she didn't flinch to his amazement. She was so sleepy that she didn't even seem to feel his touch, "if there is a God then he is the cruelest creator of them all."

"Why...?"

"Because he made me this way," his voice was not harsh. It was sad and it made Christine open her eyes. He was staring at her with the gentlest look she had ever seen. It was then that she realized that he was very gently stroking her hair. "What God could be so cruel?"

She did not know how to respond, she carefully sat up and lamented the look in Erik's eye as his hand fell to his knee. Without thinking she took his hand and carefully clutched it. Her eyes turned up to him and she smiled softly.

"Erik, I have to believe that there is a God because you are here with me. My father promised that he would send me an angel, and here you are. How do you explain that?"

He shook his head, fighting off the frustration that was beginning to color his tone, "Christine I am not an angel. I killed a man. I killed my captor."

Christine's eyes hardened slightly as she tried to play it off as confusion, the truth was that Javert had escaped her mind. "Do you feel guilty about it?"

"No," he muttered and stood up straight, bringing her to her feet, "I do not."

"Good," she whispered, looking up at him and suddenly very aware of their close proximity. Erik's eyes were locked on their touching hands, and for a brief moment she considered letting go.

_But why should I? _Christine thought as she stared at his hand in her own, _why shouldn't I let him know how wonderful he actually is? Certainly he will find it repulsive and move away from me... but... I want to. Yes, I really want to let him know._

"You are special Erik," she whispered softly. Erik's eyes immediately bulged. His skin prickled and his heart sped up the slightest bit, "you are a wonderful person and I have to believe in God because you are the only silver lining in this darkness around me. You are the only reason I have anymore..." she lowered her gaze shyly, "to do anything. I.. I do what I do so that you and I may live a life worth living. And I have to believe that someone sent you to me, you just don't make sense to me. I did nothing to deserve you-

"Stop." Erik muttered angrily. Christine turned her face up with shock and dropped his hand. They stared at one another for a terribly long moment and Christine could feel the heat of his eyes burning into her head. Filled with embarrassment she muttered a quick apology and made an attempt to get past him. She needed to escape the sight of him because if not she would throw up all the food she ha made. But Erik quickly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, aware of the shocked gasp that moved through her as he pressed her closely.

_What am I doing? _He wondered as her hands rested awkwardly on his arms. Her lips trembled and the blue shined up at him. He couldn't rip his eyes away from her. And she felt perfect in his grip. _She fits perfectly in my arms, and I never knew something was missing from them, how childishly romantic, _he thought and gritted his teeth as he watched her shy expression. He wanted to let her go. He knew that he had to but something continued to stop him. He was selfish, and he knew it. He just wanted her to himself, and as her expression melted into one of ease he knew that she didn't mind. _She is mine... _he determined as he spoke.

"That is not proof of God," he said, "that is only proof of your own goodness. I came to you because you valiantly released me from the cage that held me. I am in no way God sent Christine, I am a killer, and there is no goodness in that. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Erik," Christine nodded and lowered her gaze, "but I … I don't think you are bad."

His heart almost gave out at her words. He knew that she meant it, she wouldn't lie to him. Christine was an angel. _She would never lie to me. _

"If there was anything that would make me believe in the existence of God," he whispered and embraced her fully, much to Christine's shock, "it would be you Christine. Believe me when I say that you have been a God sent to a man that does not believe in such things."

Her eyes watered a bit and she muffled a sound of pleasure at his words. Try as she might she could not resist the urge to hug him back. He was thin in her arms, and yet the power in his bones made her reluctant to deem him frail. Erik was strong despite his thin physique.

"You are too kind," Christine whispered and moved slightly back from his embrace, albeit reluctantly.

"Always for you," he assured her as she blushed, "always."

…

The next day Christine woke up bright and early. She ate a bit of breakfast and was overjoyed to see Erik who greeted her with a firm nod of the head and a small light in his eyes. Nadir noticed the fairly easy going interaction and immediately grew curious, but he decided that he would save his questions for later.

Christine laughed for a while with the two of them before heading out to work. Today was going to be a great day. She could feel it in her bones.

When she arrived to work that morning she greeted Raoul and Philippe with bright grins. Not even Raoul's overly interested persona could ruin her day. And when she saw Aleyenne she was all grins as well.

"What has you in such a giddy mood?" Aleyenne grinned at Christine as the brunette sat there kicking her feet and popping oranges in her mouth. "You look as if though the rays of the sun are shining from each of your pores."

"Nothing," she smiled, "it is simply that knowing that you are appreciated makes everything better."

"I presume that someone you know expressed such a sentiment?"

"And it was returned," Christine smiled. In her eyes, Erik had just set a small worry in her free. She had always been under the thought that perhaps things were not going to ever be alright between the two of them. That perhaps he really did not care for all her sacrifices. Clearly he did.

"Gregor can you cut these apples for me? I need to do something, it will only take a moment I promise you. "

"Certainly," Christine smiled gently and walked around the counter. Aleyenne smiled gratefully and handed her the knife. "Would you like them to be peeled?" Christine asked as she took on red apple in her hand.

"No, you do not have to trouble yourself with that. I will return in just a moment, I assure you."

"Alright," Christine smiled and watched her go off.

As Christine sliced the apples, always being careful so that she would not cut herself, she thought on the fact that it seemed that Aleyenne was always in the mansion for one reason or another. Did the woman ever go home? Christine was not very sure that she did. But perhaps she lived with the de Chagny's? _Philippe would certainly love that. _

"Gregor?" Susan entered the kitchen with a confused look on her face. "Where is Aleyenne?"

"She went off somewhere and promised to return in a moment," Christine smiled and continued to slice away at the apples as Susan came around the counter and observed, "I'm certain that if you wait for just a few more minutes that she will have returned."

"That is fine, I will do that." Susan nodded and took a seat, "did you enjoy the ball?"

"It was very nice," Christine nodded, grinning at the memory of all the pretty gowns, "everyone looked wonderful and the house never looked so beautiful."

"I agree," Susan smiled, her eyes lighting up and her beautiful smile gracing her face, "I would give anything to wear one of those gowns."

Christine kept in character, "and I would give anything to wear one of those suits."

Susan smiled, "have you never worn one?"

Christine shook her head. _Technically this is not a lie. _"I have never worn anything that would dictate that I come from money as I have none."

"I am the same," Susan agreed, "my birth mother sold me for a pair of shoes and three pieces of bread. Luckily the family who took me in was aware of the fact that my mother was not capable of taking care of me and so they raised me themselves."

Christine did not know how to respond and so she widened her eyes, "I do not know how to reply to that."

Susan smiled sadly, "no one does."

A few more moments of silence passed and Christine continued to slice away. Susan who was growing impatient sighed and stood, bidding Gregor a good day and leaving the room.

Christine continued to slice. For a long time she did not notice the strangely long absence of Aleyenne but just as she began to wonder where she had gone off to a sound broke the still air.

At first it was nothing more then voices, muffled and convoluted. Christine frowned as they began to grow louder and moved from the kitchen into the dining room and finally into the main entrance of the home where she could see Ruella standing at the bottom step with a frantic look in her normally calm brown eyes.

"Stop!" She heard a shriek from the top floor and looked to Ruella with confusion.

"What is going on?" Ruella's only response was to look at her, and just as she was about to answer Philippe's voice broke the air and his father came around the corner and onto the top of the stairs.

"RELEASE HER!" Philippe roared violently.

It was only then that Christine could see monsieur de Chagny dragging Aleyenne. Her hair was twisted in his left hands grip. In his right hand he had a whip.

* * *

**:O**

**Uh.. oh... O_O**


	31. Flesh and Blood

Chapter XXXI

Christine's eyes bulged as Aleyenne shrieked and grabbed at her strands of hair. They were coming out at the roots as Monsieur Philippe dragged her down the steps. Her hip bones came into vicious contact with each step on the long way down and Philippe de Chagny was running down after his father and buttoning the various buttons on his shirt haphazardly.

"You little slut!" The man growled viciously as Christine's body seized and they reached the bottom step. She made one move forward and quite suddenly Ruella had her by the wrist and jerked her back, shaking her head furiously, warning her to hold her place just as Aleyenne was dragged before their eyes to the front of the courtyard. "Sleeping with my son? Do you think that I would allow that?"

"Release her!" Philippe screamed angrily and charged after his father as the man threw Aleyenne roughly to the gravel outside the door. She scrambled viciously but quite suddenly he had her by the hair again.

Philippe made a move to grab his father but his brother caught him around the arms and shoved him away as Christine and Ruella ran forward. Aleyenne's hand's wound into her hair as Monsieur de Chagny continued to yell at his son and pull on her.

"How dare you sleep with her?" He yelled as Raoul wrestled his brother against a wall. Christine trembled at the sight of Aleyenne who was struggling in the vicious grip. "Did you think that I would not find out?!"

"Let her go! You beast!"

"Beast?" His father laughed like a maniac as workers from within started to come out of the house. Christine was shaking so angrily that Ruella placed a hand on her shoulder and held on tightly with a jaw locked so forcefully that her teeth began to hurt. "You think I am a beast but you sleep with her? She is below us! You'd dare to risk tainting our bloodline with hers?"

Christine's hands flew to her mouth and her eyes watered as the man proceeded to violently rip the back of Aleyenne's dress. The woman shrieked and Philippe fought against his brother who continued to press him against the wall. Christine's eyes ran over the scars that were now exposed on Aleyenne's back and for a moment she thought she was going to be sick as she watched the man she called her boss viciously throw the woman down to the ground again.

"I will kill you, I will do it with my two hands! I swear it!" His son roared as Aleyenne struggled to get up. The moment she did M. de Chagny raised the horse whip in his hand. It seemed that her body felt it coming because one minute she was trying to get up and the next she was frozen stiff at the sound of the whip.

"Stop!" Christine screamed violently as it came down.

Aleyenne's scream shattered the air and Philippe gave such a roar of anger that Christine thought he might have ruptured his throat. Ruella shook with fear as blood bubbled to the surface of Aleyenne's dark skin.

"You are nothing! You are filth!" M. de Chagny yelled wildly as he brought the whip down on her back again. Aleyenne twisted violently through the pain and screeched.

"Help me! Help!" Aleyenne screamed.

_No, no, no, _Christine thought angrily and ran forward.

Ruella screamed 'Gregor' once as Christine raced forward. Just as the man was going to bring the whip down again Christine thrust herself in between them and grabbed him around the arm. He instantly began to shake her off and Raoul yelled 'Gregor' angrily once in the air. Appalled that the 'boy' would dare to get in the middle. Now he faced the conflict of holding his brother back from the wrath of their father or saving the boy who he knew was in fact a girl. Ultimately he did not get to decide because his brother broke free and ran in their direction.

"Release me!" Christine shrieked with outrage and twisted in his grip.

"You do not tell me what to do! Filthy boy!" M. de Chagny yelled viciously in her face, spitting in the process. He twisted his fingers into her hair and then shoved her to the ground. Christine caught herself on her hands just as Raoul rushed forward and made an attempt to catch her. Philippe was bringing Aleyenne to her feet as sobs ripped through her chest.

"Tell me what to do my love?" he whispered gently, Christine could hear the tears in his voice and when she darted a look in their direction behind her he could see that Aleyenne was laying on the ground trembling with her face buried in the nook of her arm, sobbing at the pain flaring at her back.

"All of you out!" Monseiur de Chagny roared, "get out of my house! Everyone!" Ruella's terrified eyes widened as workers filtered out of the home and Christine struggled to come to a stand. Raoul grabbed her around the arm and gently helped her to her feet as his father breathed heavily and glared at them all, as if they had wronged him. "I don't want to see her here ever again!" He stabbed a finger in Aleyenne's direction. Philippe turned his hard eyes on his father. "And you will see to it that she never returns here again!" With that he turned and stormed into the house.

…

"Are you hurt?" Raoul whispered as he ran his eyes over Christine who was shaking and hardly breathing. Had she just lost her job? She did not know. And she really did not care. Without answering him she turned to Aleyenne who was still crying and now trying to come to a stand with Philippe's help.

"She needs a medic," Christine whispered, looking at Aleyenne's bloody back with panic, "those wounds can get infected if they are not treated. I know a doctor, he is very good."

"How far?" Philippe asked, he swept Aleyenne into his arms and winced when she released a hard cry, his arm was in contact with the bad wounds at her skin. "How far!"

"Not very far, ten minutes by carriage," Christine swallowed and then looked at Raoul, "we can all go, he will help us. I know it."

"Yes, let's go." Philippe nodded. Christine and Raoul ran in front of Philippe as they went to the carriage. He carried Aleyenne inside of it and soon they were off. They endured most of the ride in silence, Christine sat beside Raoul and Aleyenne sat on Philippe's lap. She was hardly speaking, just crying and shaking.

"I will kill him," Philippe murmured to his brother, the glint in his eye made Christine shiver. "And the next time that you try to hold me back, I will kill you too."

"If I had let you go father would have hit you with the whip. I did not want that." Raoul explained quietly. Philippe did not answer, he simply shut his eyes and cradled Aleyenne closer. Christine could see the tension in his hands as he held her and for a brief moment she wondered if he would go against his fathers wishes and stay with Aleyenne. Only time would tell.

When the carriage came to a stop Christine hopped out and went to the front of Nadir's home. She knocked on it three times and Philippe hopped out next as Raoul rewarded the carriage driver handsomely. It was then that she realized that Erik and Raoul would be under the same roof, would Erik like him? _Probably not. _

When the door opened Christine rushed in. Nadir's eyes widened to the size of plates as Philippe de Chagny moved in next with the woman in his arms and then Raoul .

"I am so sorry to barge in this way Nadir," Christine apologized, "but it is important that you tend to her wounds."

"What-I-

"Help us please," Christine interrupted him. His confusion seemed to overwhelm him momentarily as his eyes darted from Philippe de Chagny's face to Raoul's and then to the woman in his arms. He looked to Christine once more and then gave one sharp nod.

"Go to the second floor, there will be a bedroom with the door open, lay her on the bed. I will be up in a matter of seconds," Nadir ordered and jogged off into the kitchen to gather materials. Philippe nodded gratefully and then stormed the stairs. Christine was about to follow but Raoul caught her around the elbow.

She turned to stair up at him with confusion.

"How do you know Mr. Khan?" His blue eyes narrowed with confusion.

"I live here..." she whispered, looking down at his arm as it held her arm, "and I will warn you that I do not take kindly to being grabbed as if I were some animal."

"Forgive me," he removed his hand from her and stood up straight, "where is your family-

"That is none of your concern," she bit back a bit harshly, no longer caring. She did not work under his household anymore. At least she didn't think she did.

Raoul's eyes became more confused and he raked a hand through his blonde hair, "have I done something to offend you?"

Had he? Christine did not know how to respond. She took a deep breath and shook her head. Deeming her behavior inappropriate, "no. You did not. The day has been hard. Forgive me, let us go and help Philippe in any way we can. I do not imagine that this is very easy on him right now."

Raoul nodded and followed Christine up the stairs.

…

"How do you know Mr. Khan?" The voice annoyed Erik, who was eavesdropping from the kitchen. His sensitive hearing had picked up the young voice easily and try as he might he could not control the urge to listen in more.

"I live here..." Christine's soft voice responded. _She does not owe him answers. Why is she bothering? _"And I will warn you that I do not take kindly to being grabbed as if I were some animal."

_Grabbed ? _Erik's hands clenched. Why was this male touching Christine at all? And why had she not pounced on him the moment he did? _Was it happening often? Was this boy making a habit of putting his hands on her? Does he think he has the right to? _Erik's eyes narrowed and the amber flashed. His lips turned down grimly and his hands twitched.

"Forgive me. Where is your family?"

_Does it concern you? _Erik hissed mentally just as Christine answered, "that is none of your concern."

"Have I done something to offend you?"

Erik hoped he had, that way Christine would never speak to him again. He did not know who it was that she spoke to but he did not like the male one bit.

When Christine and the boy escaped up the stairs he turned on Nadir.

"Who are they?" Erik hissed quietly in the kitchen as the Persian gathered materials of all sorts. He had heard the pounding on the door and instantly hid, not wanting to be seen by one of Nadir's patients. When he heard Christine's voice he almost stepped out. But it became clear that she was with company.

"They are the Chagny brothers and they have brought with them a young woman. I recall seeing her in their home on countless occasions. I cannot imagine what has brought her here, but I suppose I am going to find out."

_So it is the one I had seen Christine talking with... _Erik's eyes narrowed, _it isn't a wonder why I instantly had a disliking of his voice. His kind is repulsive. Their pompousness and their money drips from their voices._

"Why do they have to be here?" Erik snappily retorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against a wall just as Nadir took out a bottle of alcohol from a cabinet. "They can leave the woman and be on their way."

"I do not know, perhaps they will leave but I-

"Tell Christine to come down when she has a moment. No. As soon as she can. I want to show her something that might be to her interest."

Nadir did not respond and left the room quickly – going up the stairs. Erik did not like the fact that there were strangers with Christine. Especially the Chagny brothers. And Christine had a lot of explaining to do, _especially about this... grabbing, she spoke of. _

* * *

**Aleyenne :( Well I hope that you all liked that chapter, especially the awkward situation of Erik and Chagny's under the same roof -cringes- how awkard. Agh! Anyway! I hope you all enjoyed it :P :). **


	32. In Nadir's Home

**Chapter XXXII**

"I will never return there Raoul," Philippe muttered angrily as he clutched Aleyenne's trembling hand in both of his. His eyes were two stormy blue orbs shining with ideas of all the malicious thoughts he harbored towards his father. While Christine in no way condoned such thoughts she found herself guilty of the same ones. There were few words in her vocabulary that could accurately describe her astonishment and her disgust with the events of that morning.

"Aleyenne?" She whispered softly, moving forward quietly. They had positioned the woman on her chest so that the wounds on her back would not hurt her further. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No," Aleyenne croaked, "thank you." The tears in her voice made Christine flinch and Philippe hover a little more protectively. In the corner of the room Raoul scowled.

"He ought to be ashamed of himself," Raoul said, "to strike a woman."

"Ashamed is not enough," Philippe responded, "he ought to be burning with guilt."

Just at the moment Nadir entered the room, closing the door behind him. Philippe was immediately on his feet and rolling up his sleeves. Nadir looked at him quizzically as he began to organize all the different things he had brought up with him.

Catching Nadir's confused look Philippe spoke up, all the while still rolling up his sleeves above his elbows. "Surely you do not expect me to sit idly by." Nadir raised an eyebrow, "give me anything to do, but I cannot simply... stand here!"

"Here," Nadir regarded him strangely for a moment and then proceeded to hand him a bowl with a bunch of leaves and herbs, "crush this and every once in a while add this oil, do not over saturate it." Philippe gave a quick nod and began to crush up the herbs. Nadir then turned to Christine, "Erik would like to speak with you."

"Can it not wait?" She asked, looking to Aleyenne's trembling body.

"You know how he is," Nadir rolled his eyes and turned to Aleyenne. Christine sighed heavily and looked to Raoul whose expression was confused. "The man requests your presence, and you know he does not like to be kept waiting, he is in the kitchen."

"Well Erik need to learn to have some patience!" She snappily retorted and stomped out of the room. As Christine moved down the stairs she felt as if though her anger was fading. The closer she drew to Erik the more eager she became to see him and tell him of the days events. He would be just as appalled as she was, she imagined, at the thought of a man whipping another person. _But then again, _she thought as she stepped into the kitchen, _its never shock with Erik. It's always that cynical knowledge of his. _

Erik was standing by the table when she entered. He was watching the entrance and because of this he saw her immediately. Christine did not know what came over her but suddenly she was speeding over to him and wrapping her arms around his thin waist, pressing close to him and breathing in deeply.

"Erik," she began, not noticing how he tensed and held his arms up and away from her as if touching her might mean something catastrophic would pursue. "you do not know how terrible this day was. Today one of the cooks at the de Chagny mansion was whipped in their court before my very eyes. The poor woman was greatly injured and the man of the home did not seem to care in the slightest. I intervened and forced him to stop after a terrible yelling match between he and his sons. We brought the woman here so that Nadir could see to her injuries but – oh Erik it was terrible I am so relieved to be here now." She breathed and opened her eyes, not realizing that she had shut them.

Erik listened through the entire thing motionlessly. He did not know how to respond to the story but it was when she got to her own intervention in the matter that he became truly concerned. His hands slid to her shoulders and he pulled her back, immediately he noticed how she winced.

"Were you hurt?"

"No," she shook her head and looked up at him with adoring eyes, "I promise."

"Then why do you flinch." He noted the way her arm tensed, and also how much more disheveled than normal her hair was. It was then that he noted the strands of her hair on her shoulders. Things began to click very slowly, and Christine could not understand the expression that came over his face as he watched her.

"Erik...?"

"He touched you." His voice was a low growl and his hands locked around her biceps, firm.

"No, no, Erik-" she knew she had to stop him immediately, "it was during the scuffle. It was nothing grave I promise you-

"Then why is your hair falling out," he retorted sharply. _The man must have pulled her hair, _Erik thought as he noticed the shaky look in her eyes, confirming his suspicions. "Did you plan to keep this from me-

"There is no reason why you would have to know," she defended softly, noticing the building rage in his eyes. "Raoul came to my aid-

"Oh Raoul, is it?" Erik hissed violently now. He did not know where it was coming from but the idea that they were on a first name basis made him see red. And the fact that she now regarded this boy as her savior made him envious. _He must look oh so gallant, _Erik speculated as he turned from her and stalked to the other-side of the small Kitchen, _her knight in shining armor. And I am the monster! _"I am sure that the two of you must be the best of friends that you call him _Raoul-_

"What else am I to call him Erik?" Her eyes shined at him.

"The vicomte, vicomte de Chagny, Raoul de Chagny, or Fop!"

"Lower your voice!" She hissed, slamming her hand on the round table, "he is upstairs-

"Oh we would certainly not want to risk hurting his pretty little feelings now would we?" Erik's amber eyes narrowed darkly, "you would hate to see his handsome face twisted into a mask of sadness wouldn't you?"

"Stop it!" She came around the table angrily and stood before him, glaring up into his eyes with both exhaustion, and anger, "I will not stand here and allow you to harass him. You do not know him!"

"And you do not know him," Erik responded. It was taking everything in his body to not shout from anger. He could not understand why she was defending this boy. And the more he thought on it the less he understood. It could only be that she wanted to be with the handsome man. That surely had to be it... she was growing affectionate. If he did not care for him she would not be bothered by insults. But here she was, defending the fool. Was she getting sick of Erik's presence? The thoughts were making Erik almost delirious and he found his thoughts becoming increasingly angry. Not towards Christine, for Christine was a kind soul, and she would never hurt him. Not intentionally. But towards that Raoul de Chagny.

"Erik please," her soft voice called him back down to earth, "lets not fight. I do not want to fight today, please," her hands trembled as they rose to rest on the flat planes of his chest. Erik's eyes narrowed protectively as he looked past her head at nothing. The feel of her hands on him was making him greedy. He began to imagine that if the vicomte and Christine got too friendly things would happen between the two of them that would be more physical then anything Erik has ever experienced. And the idea of that was driving him mad. "Erik, look at me..."

He turned his face down towards her and stared, the yellow in his eyes looked almost orange.

"Please do not get angry, Raoul de Chagny is a friend.. not even a friend. An acquaintance and that shall never change." Christine began to wonder why she was justifying her position to Erik. Why did it matter? It was then that she also realized that Erik was envious. The thought thrilled her and saddened her. "He is just the son of my employer."

Erik allowed his hand to rise and rest on her jaw. It was so delicate. He caught the small shiver that rolled through her, it delighted him. The small blush that crawled onto her cheeks confirmed that she was not disgusted by his touch. Christine was equally thrilled by gesture and especially the way Erik's long and narrow fingers rested on her jaw. His thumb stroked at her jaw bone delicately, and for a long time Christine wondered if he understood the intimacy of the moment. Or was she the one who didn't understand?

"I do not feel comfortable with you working under that household anymore... for a multitude of reasons. I want you to promise me that you will not return to that premises again. They are not people that are safe for you." He paused, catching her apprehensive look, "it would put me at ease."

Christine nodded, "you are right Erik."

_Thank you. _Erik nodded and when Christine leaned forward. He stiffened. She rested her cheek against his cheek and just stood there, winding her arms around his sides and shutting her eyes. Again Erik did not know how to respond so he returned the gesture and stood there awkwardly.

"I am so tired," the quiet tone in her voice made him respond in kind.

"It shows... would you like to rest?"

"Yes... but I must return upstairs. I am sure that Nadir would like some help. And I would hate to sleep while Aleyenne is in pain." She disengaged herself from him and walked towards the exit. She stopped once she was there and turned to him, biting her lower lip slightly. "Erik," she started, "I would never leave you. For anyone in the world. You and I are a unit..."

Erik's chest swelled and he nodded, believing her. "Soon we will leave together underneath the opera house. I just need a few more weeks."

"I know Erik," she smiled, "I am certain that it will surpass all of my expectations." She left the room with a smile and he listened to her steps as they disappeared up the stairs.

Almost immediately he began a furious pacing. He needed to make this lair everything that Christine could want and more. He began to plot out the entrance to their lair. He wanted lanterns lighting the cave walls until they reached the lake. And once they passed the lake he wanted candles everywhere to illuminate the beautiful kingdom he would create for her and their music.

Erik's elation knew no bounds. He found a smile crawling to his face as he thought about her words to him and her response to his touch. She had not been disgusted. Could it be that there was a God? For how can someone so divine be created without the hint of some foreign hand? And she was brave, and strong, and her own person. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. And while he could do without her argumentative attitude it thrilled him to know that she stood up for something.

_Amazing, _he thought as he slumped down no the chair and touched his forehead, trying to resist the smile crawling onto his face. _She is amazing. _

**…**

"How is she?" Christine breathed as she stepped into the bedroom. Raoul looked up at her with a curious stare. Philippe was watching Nadir spread the crushed herbs onto Aleyenne's wounds. The greenish concoction seemed to relieve her because she would only tense as they were being applied and then she would relax.

"She is doing well," Nadir said in a methodical voice, leaning forward to carefully coat the steaks of red thickly. "How is Erik?"

"He is well," Christine blushed and ducked her head. Nadir heard the strange squeak in her voice and looked around her her quizzically before returning to his work. Philippe paid her no mind and Raoul shifted with discomfort at the small smile coloring her lips. Christine's mind swirled with thoughts of what had just occurred. She had touched Erik, and he had responded by allowing her to hold him and then had proceeded to return it.

_What came over me? _She wondered as she stepped forward.

"Christine hand me that," Nadir murmured, pointing to an oil bottle on the ground.

"This one?" she asked, holding it up.

"Christine?"

Everyone looked to Philippe whose eyes were wide with confusion. Christine turned tomato red and Nadir sighed heavily, realizing what he had just done. Raoul's eyes widened and Philippe stood as he stared at Christine with a confused look.

"Christine?" Aleyenne groaned.

"Oh..." Christine laughed shakily, "I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do..." she bit her lip nervously as Philippe scowled and crossed his arms. "Would you care for some tea in the meantime?"

* * *

**Well the cats out of the bag, and Erik and Christine are ... getting rather comfortable no? Well the next chapter will hopefully blow your mind. and I'm posting it right now so you dont have to wait long! :) **


	33. Hide and Seek

**Chapter XXXIII**

By the time Christine had finished explaining everything to Philippe he was shaking his head and groaning on and on about what a fool he was to have missed something so obvious.

"I should have seen it," he muttered, looking up at her as Nadir checked Aleyenne, "I see it now, you look like a female."

"Raoul noticed," Christine smirked, looking to the other Chagny with a quirky grin.

"How could I have missed it?" Philippe groaned with embarrassment. "Well, Christine, that is your name correct? Or is that a lie."

She laughed in response and nodded, "Christine Daae."

"Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, again, Miss Daae," Philippe stood and took her hand in his, gently pressing his lips to her knuckles. "I am amazed that you were able to bypass all of us in the mansion except for this droll idiot."

Raoul shrugged, "and I thought you were the one who knew your way around women. It seems that you cannot tell who a woman is and who is not."

Christine giggled at that and then sighed heavily, "Nadir, I am going to bathe, I feel dirty after today's rather eventful day. I will do my best to get out quickly."

"Take your time," Nadir insisted as he stood.

Christine went to the washroom and began to fill the tub with water. She wondered what Erik was doing and if he was still seething at the de Chagny's presence. She hoped not. She found that it was very easy to anger Erik and she had yet to see a moment when he was not completely upset.

As Christine stripped down to her bare skin she winced. Her muscles felt sore from the thrashing that Raoul's father had given her and even worse then that was the throbbing in her head. She would need to ask Nadir for something to alleviate it.

When she sank into the warm water Christine thought she might die. It was so nice against her skin and it also provided her with a sense of relief. She was home, with Nadir and Erik and no one could harm her here. She wouldn't have allowed it, and she knew that Erik would hurt anyone who dared cross her path.

**…**

Erik tried to not think violent thoughts. He knew that they were ugly and he was more than aware of the fact that Christine would not approve. But the idea that someone had tried to injure her had his brain rampant on a thirst for vengeance. _Monsters think thoughts just as hideous as they are. It is only natural that a beast such as I think beastly things. _Or at least, that's what he was trying to convince himself of. There was a point in time when he would not have hesitated in his train of thinking. But now Christine had changed everything.

He had never seen the M. de Chagny but he could already envision him. Fat, rounded by his ability to eat whatever he wished, decked from head to toe in lavish things that Erik could not even dream of touching. A shameless smile and a conniving stare.

Erik did not think that he would be able to let this one pass. There would have to be some sort of retribution or the fire in his chest would burn so long that it would consume him. Then he would do something truly regrettable. And Christine would never forgive him if she found out.

"Come, let her rest," Nadir sounded from the top of the stairs. From where he sat Erik stiffened. There was no escape in the kitchen from these fops. If they stepped in here they would see him and he would be forced to either kill them, look like he feared them, or worse, make conversation.

Nadir and the two men came down the stairs and their steps drew closer. Erik stiffened and stood up straight, ready to face the enemy and be ridiculed by their stares, but suddenly Nadir stopped them.

"Take a seat here, I will bring you something to drink."

"Thank you," one of them stated and then Nadir's stepped sounded as he came closer to the kitchen.

When he stepped inside he was not surprised to see Erik still standing there. But an amused smirk came over his lips at his annoyed expression, "is something the matter Erik?"

"Distract them long enough to give me a chance to hide upstairs." Erik's voice was harsh.

"You room is occupied at the moment. There is nowhere to go."

"Get them out Nadir," Erik hissed, "I will go into your office but I will not stand in their presence."

"They are really not as bad as you probably think," Nadir whispered quietly back as the boys conversed in the living room. "Christine told them that she is a female. The Raoul boy seemed to know but the other one did not care in the slightest.

"I do not care. Ask them to step out for some fresh air or –

"Or what?" Nadir chuckled, looking at Erik who was trembling so furiously that Nadir thought he might be on the verge of an attack of some sort. "You must get over this fear of others-

"Do not presume that I fear them. I fear no man!"

Nadir stared at Erik for a long time. Calm as ever and rationalizing why it was that Erik felt so strongly about this. He suspected, and quite correctly, that Erik's long years of being ridiculed for his appearance had weighed heavy on his trust and his communication with others.

"Fine," Nadir nodded and began to step out of the kitchen. "Come lads, follow me. Let's step outside for some fresh air. I will fetch the drinks when we return." Erik stayed silent and unmoving as he heard the two men following Nadir. He would use this chance to escape. He needed to get out of their sight.

When Nadir and the two men left the house Erik quickly glided out of the kitchen and up the stairs. But as he reached the top step he remembered that the room that belonged to him and Christine was occupied by the injured woman. He stood there, frozen. He would not be seen by those two rich twits. Erik refused to be the focus of their curiosity and disgust. Those days were long over, Christine had made sure of that.

As soon as he began to wonder where exactly she was he heard her soft voice flowing from the washroom.

Quietly Erik stepped forward, drawn to her by the power of her voice. She was simply vocalizing, allowing herself the freedom to simply sing without singing at all. Inside he could hear the water splashing against her skin, and the thought made him stifle a moan. He imagined that beneath all her rags Christine was skeletal, and yet he found the image of it satisfying... and his body agreed with him.

_Vixen, _Erik hissed mentally, even as he listened to her through the thin wooden door. He felt nailed to the spot as she lifted her beautiful voice, lulling him into a dangerous catatonic state of mind.

**…**

"Who is that?" Raoul asked, as if startled by the beautiful sounds streaming from inside Nadir's house.

"That is Christine," Nadir laughed as Philippe's eyes widened and Raoul looked towards the windows with surprise, "she sings quite wonderfully, do you not agree?"

"Quite wonderfully indeed," Raoul murmured, at a loss for words. "Does she always sing this way? It's operatic. Why has she not gone to the Opera house and auditioned? Her voice-

"She will be," Nadir nodded, knowing Erik's plan would still be in motion, "it's just that she feels she needs more training."

"I can pay to have her trained-

"She would be offended by that suggestion," Nadir shrugged, "she has a trainer."

"Oh," Raoul frowned slightly, "is it William Ranoskova? Quinn Harlow? Tobias Merlet? Whom?"

Nadir raised a brow, "you are well versed in areas of music it seems."

"I am," Philippe corrected, rolling his eyes at his brother who was still looking up towards were he thought Christine to be, "Raoul has simply picked up a few things here and there."

"Well in any case her voice is marvelous. I will return." Raoul smiled and stepped in the house.

**…**

"Christine!"

Erik froze where he stood.

_What was he doing here? _

He could hear the man running up the stairs as Christine stopped singing. If Erik even made an attempt to run forward towards safety he knew that he would be spotted by the de Chagny on the staircase.

"Christine!"

"Raoul?" She called from inside, "Raoul I cannot come to the door at the moment."

_Does he not know that she is indisposed? _Erik's hands twitched as he considered harming the de Chagny. Raoul, the one he hated more than the other. There was no escape. And Christine would never forgive him if he were to shoved the man down the stairs.

Erik's palms broke into a cold sweat and his throat closed up. Quickly he shoved the door to the washroom open and closed it behind him.

_Forgive me Christine... _

* * *

**O_O NAKED CHRISTINE IN A BATHTUB? **

**OH LAWDY.**

**Gangster Christine might say: "What the hell do you think you're doing? Boy you better get up outta' my bathroom before I kick your skinny ass! NOW GIT! **

**Gangster Erik might say: 'But gurl you is lookin' so foine.'**

**But this is not a gangster Erik and Christine story...**

**so what will the repercussions be? :) I guess review might help you find out quicker!**


	34. Water and Fire

**Chapter XXXIV**

Christine sprang up from the bathtub with a gasp as Erik burst into the room. It registered almost instantly to her that she was _very_ naked.

"Christine!" Raoul called from outside of the door as she scrambled wildly. Too speechless to even ask Erik what he thought he was doing and outraged, and then quickly embarrassed as she realized that she had stood – therefore in Erik's direct line of vision. Her heartbeat was erratic as she looked up.

He was staring at her with eyes as wide as plates. He had never seen a woman naked, not really any way. And this was inappropriate. This was... this was wrong. But he couldn't look away from her. He tried, he really did but he could not bring himself to tear his eyes away. She was-

"Christine forgive me for the interruption," Raoul called from the other side of the door, "but I heard you singing. I know people that could train you!"

Christine did not hear him at all. She was mortified. Erik was still staring at her, and she was still staring at him. She was becoming lightheaded. What the hell did Erik think he was doing?

"Christine did you hear me?" Raoul called.

Erik ducked his gaze from her and turned his back, trembling. Christine opened her mouth to speak but found that no words came out.

"Are you alright in there?" Raoul called, suddenly nervous. "Christine?" He knocked on the door multiple times, and Erik locked his hand onto the doorknob so that Raoul might not try to open the door. "Christine! Answer me!"

Realizing that if Raoul did not get an answer he might burst in through the door next she opened her mouth. Erik would kill Raoul, she was certain of it. Erik would not tolerate someone staring at him with his mask, especially not a 'fop' like Raoul.

"I am alright," she called back in an uneven tone, "I will speak with you when I am out Raoul. It is quite improper that we shout this way."

"Ah, yes, yes you are quite right. Forgive me Christine." Without another word his footsteps started and she listened carefully until they disappeared.

_What have I done, _Erik thought angrily as he listened to the silence behind him. Christine was naked, and he had caught an eyeful. He had seen the way her body sloshed out of the water as she stood up, indignant at first, and then horrified as she realized what was taking place. He had been unable to breathe or think, or move, as he stared at her.

He knew that Christine was too thin for her own good, but it did not rob him of seeing the beauty before him as he admired her small waist, or the smooth curve of her thighs, or her breasts. Erik hated himself more than anyone else at that moment. He was a beast, and Christine had all the right in the world to hate him, because try as he might he was fighting all his urges to turn around and stare at her again. He had never seen a woman naked, not really. And especially not one so beautiful. He could still envision her if he tried.

"Erik..." her sweet voice sounded cracked, "what are you doing in here?"

"Christine," her name escaped him shallowly. He did not know how to respond. How could he explain that his own cowardice forced him to hide from that Raoul boy, "forgive-

Christine stepped out of the tub and grabbed her dirty clothing. She did not wish to bathe again but she was not going to stand in front of Erik so naked. She tossed on the shirt and then the pants, mildly annoyed at the fact that she was still soaking.

"You may turn around now," she muttered.

Slowly Erik turned to face her and sheepishly looked, thoroughly embarrassed. Christine stood there with her long hair dripping wet. It seemed to him that she did not notice something which he himself could not ignore, and it was the fact that her nipples were taut against the fabric of the clothing. He ripped his gaze away and shuffled uncomfortably as feelings... feelings he had not really experienced before started brewing. He swallowed thickly and looked elsewhere, anywhere but her. This could not be happening to him.

"The Vicomte was coming up the stairs when I... I realized that he would see me if I did not hide."

"And so you burst in here?" she hissed angrily, marching forward and into his direct line of vision, "I am bathing, you have no right to enter."

"I know."

"How dare you!"

"I do not know."

"You insufferable man!" She stomped her foot. Erik did his best to keep a serious face but he found it downright endearing as she continued to hiss at him and angrily explain to him her disbelief. There was something about the fire in her eyes as she said it that made him want to hear more. "You are not so horrible that someone seeing you is a disaster! I was naked! You just saw me …. naked!" She spluttered in her outrage, "and than than idiot Raoul is shouting about some training nonsense. Have you all lost your minds!" She shouted.

"Christine-

"No! Do not _Christine _me! Men are all moronic! All of you seem to be unable to grasp the concept of propriety!"

"You cannot speak on propriety Christine. _You_ are dressed like a man and yet you are a woman," he pointed out, trying to take the image of just how womanly she was out of his head.

Christine seemed to read the embarrassed look in his eye and a rage swelled within her. One moment she was standing in front of Erik with her hands to herself and the next she had her hands fisted in his shirt.

Christine had him shoved back against the door. It vibrated as he slammed into it and she kept him pinned there. His eyes grew heated as he glared down at her. Her little fists were pressed tightly against his chest. He waited, expecting her to say something, but she did not. She just stared up at him, and the fire in his loins stirred as her hands dug even more deeply against his shirt.

"I am sorry," he stated sincerely, "it was a mistake and it shall never happen again. I swear it." Christine's eyes remained heated and he reached up carefully, touching her wrists. He tried to pry her hands off of him but clearly she had no intentions of releasing him. The press of her against his body was becoming dangerous, and they both saw it in their faces. Christine's breath was becoming increasingly more shallow and her hands were loosening of their own accord. Erik's eyes had hazed over and skated down to her mouth.

"Christine," he murmured softly, "you should let go now."

Her fiery eyes remained locked on him, she did not release him. His hands tightened on her wrists as she pressed him against the door again and moved closer.

Christine knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to stay like this, but she wanted to kiss him. She needed to.

_To hell with the repercussions, _she thought as she carefully rose onto her toes, staring up at him hesitantly. His amber eyes were hooded, and she was unsure of what that meant. But she did not care to find out. She didn't have much of a choice.

Erik's lips came crashing down on hers with such a ferocity that it hurt. Her eyes widened and then shut as he held her lips to his for one long moment, almost unsure of how to proceed, but before she could think of taking the reigns he was moving again.

Erik's hands were at her hips, pulling her closer, ignoring the way her pants slung low on her hips and feverishly wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer, clawing his hands at her back and daring to taste her bottom lip with his tongue. She sucked in a soft breath at the feeling of his tongue skating against her lip and then she returned the favor. He released a deep rumbling sound from his throat.

She was all too aware of the mask and how it made it hard for her to kiss him. She wanted it gone but did not dare to rip it away. Her hands started skating down his chest. She wanted to touch his skin, but he was covered from neck to toe in material. Her finger tips skated dangerously close to his abdomen when Erik's tongue once again darted out to taste her lips. A moan quivered out of her. She caved and opened her mouth very slightly, going weak at the knees and wobbling.

"Erik..." her soft purr was enticing and it made him release a hard breath as she came up for air. His mouth was on her jaw, his tongue daringly flicked out – snakelike and stole a taste of the skin most readily available to him. Thunderbolts rolled in his loins as Christine moaned softly and brought his mouth back to her own. Her pretty hands were in his black hair. "More... please."

Erik suddenly seized. Understanding.

"No," Erik whispered hoarsely and wrenched away from her.

Christine stumbled backwards, confused and shocked. She swallowed back and touched her lips. They were tingling, and warm, throbbing as an aftermath of what had transpired. Erik stared at the empty space before him and shook his head.

_What was I thinking? _He thought as he raised his eyes to Christine who was gawking at him.

"W-we kissed," She stuttered. Her hands trembled and she tried to ignore the urge in her to do it again. "We kissed."

Erik's eyes lowered with embarrassment and he raked a hand through his hair... sighing and shutting his eyes.

She had felt perfect. He knew she enjoyed it, he couldn't ignore the feeling of her pressing herself closer to his body, or the way her lips opened, an invitation on her behalf to do what he wished with her lips. But he couldn't do it. He did not want to start something he might not be able to stop. It frightened him that one moment she could be so angry, and the next she might want him.

_Christine wanting me... _he never felt so confused in his entire life.

She turned around and went to the window. The cool breeze kissed her heated face and neck. She shivered slightly and ran a hand over her face. Erik had kissed her. And in return she had kissed him. _What a fool I am, _she thought softly, _of course he would reject me. _

"Christine," Erik could read her defeat from where he stood. He did not dare to move any closer to her, afraid of what might happen if he did. "That cannot and will not happen again."

She did not respond for a moment. Her eyes shimmering with tears. Her chest felt tight and she dared to smile, to look as if it did not affect her in the slightest. She turned to him, ignoring the burning in her eyes, "I know. I would not expect it to."

He swallowed, noticing the glistening. "We cannot... I … it would be imprudent of us-

"Do not fret," Christine waved a hand dismissively, suddenly passive-aggressive, annoyed with him and his unsure behavior. He had wanted it, she knew he did, and now he stumbled over his words – deeming it a mistake with his body language. She wanted to be left alone. Why was she feeling this way? Why did it hurt? "Now leave, I need to bathe again, the clothes..." she shrugged and stepped towards the bathtub.

Erik stared at her for a long time. His eyes narrowing at her.

Erik could read the clear dissatisfaction in her eyes. And he felt the need to speak again. But Christine had already turned her back to him, Erik quietly left the room.

**…**

In the wake of his departure Christine remained standing. But not for long.

The crushing weight of what had jut transpired sent her onto her knees. She shut her eyes and fought the onslaught of tears in her eyes. She did not know why it hurt her so much, she could not possibly understand. It was not as if Erik had ever expressed anything other than a sort of owed kinship with her. She had never felt any expressed romantic interest in him. And yet seeing him there, looking at her with what she knew was a sort of awakened desire in his eyes – she knew. She knew that she had to be with him. There was a sort of magnetic pull to him, it was undeniable, and now … now she was left on her knees with an unexplainable hurt.

_He does not feel the same way, _she thought quietly, blinking away the tears and quietly coming to a stand. She began to peel off her clothing. _But of course not. I am Christine, and he is Erik. Erik deserves someone beautiful, talented beyond reason.. someone who does not have to grovel for a living. _

Her eyes stung as she went back into the bathtub again. Quietly she soaked. Raoul liked her very much, she knew that. Perhaps she could come to see him in the same light as Erik. Or better.

_But what light is that? _She wondered, looking over towards the door as if Erik would burst in again. _What is he thinking at this moment? _

_What am _I _thinking? _Christine sighed and shut her eyes. _I need him. Dear God, I want him. _

**…**

Erik paced in the kitchen angrily. He did not know what he was thinking when he so stupidly kissed her. Well, he was not really thinking at all. He knew that now that his thoughts had returned. Only one phrase ran through his head as he had held her closely, _do it, do it. Do it. _

And now one word taunted him, _Why? _

Why indeed. Erik could understand that any man would be tempted by Christine. She was... something else all together. Or at least he thought so. But he never thought that she could be so magnetic that he would think to kiss her, or actually do it.

His lips still burned with the after feeling of her mouth. Erik plopped down on the chair and lowered his head. If that damn boy had not come into the house none of this would have happened! He was very confused. He did not know what it was that he was feeling exactly. It was something new. He wanted to go upstairs, he wanted to haul her out of the bathroom and shake her, to make her understand that it was a mistake. And the other part of him wanted to keep making the same mistake until it was no longer a mistake. Until it was not wrong, but right.

He wanted to kiss her until it was the answer for all their problems. The cynic in Erik laughed. As if Christine would ever let him touch her that way again.

But why not? Erik was sure that she kissed him back. He knew she had, he felt it.

But it cannot happen again, he thought, _Christine... Christine does not understand. She does not know me. Not really. I can offer her nothing. _

Quietly Erik drifted, thoughts of her naked body plagued him.

* * *

**:O CHRISTINE :( ERIK :( **

**I just want to kiss you both on the cheek and then make you understand! BUT I CAN'T!. WEll I can... but.. this is too fun. **

**And you guys like Ghetto Christine and Erik? You want to know a secret? You've all made me get this idea of a modern day story which is along those lines, but not Ghetto Erik as much as a fiesty Ghetto Christine. I grew up in Washington Heights - Nyc so I've got the lingo own even though it was a Dominican Urban slang. Still :) What do you guys think? Like a humor/romance story. Maybe a one-shot? Haha you all give me the craziest Idea. **

**:) So tell me what you thought!**


	35. Thunder

**Chapter XXXV**

As Christine dried her hair with the towel Nadir had given her she strode towards her bedroom. Quietly she twisted the doorknob and stepped inside. Aleyenne was still laying there, breathing lightly. Doing her best to not wake the woman she tip toed towards the other side of the room and set the towel down.

When she exited the bedroom she listened carefully for any sign of Erik. She could sense him inside the house like she could sense herself. She felt as if though he were watching her without watching her at all. It set her hairs on edge.

Christine made it downstairs and quietly sat down. She could hear Nadir conversing with the de Chagny brothers just outside the door but she had no interest in stepping outside and joining the conversation. She knew that the events of the day were to blame for her sudden lack of interest in anything and everything. She wanted no conversations with anyone, only to sit in silence and simply nap away the stress.

Eventually Nadir entered again with Raoul and Philippe in tow. Christine said nothing as they came. Raoul's eyes were glued to her and he blushed when she raised her gaze to him.

He found that she looked beautiful even in the wrong clothing. Her pretty eyes were framed by her wet eyelashes and her thin – petite body looked dwarfed in the oversized clothing. She sat there, rather improperly with her legs slightly apart, slouching as if she had just finished a battle.

"How was your talk?" Christine asked as they all took seats. Nadir was eyeballing her strangely, having picked up that there was something going on that he was not privy to.

"It was fine, I wanted to ask you something," Raoul smiled beautifully, "I am aware of the fact that you sing. And quite wonderfully actually."

"How do you know that?" She looked to Nadir, worried that perhaps it was he who told Raoul.

"I heard you, from the window," Raoul explained. Philippe was looking at his brother with an annoyed glare. He did not seem to like where the conversation was going. "I wanted to know what your plans were... you have a beautiful talent. You can sing professionally if you wanted to."

"Thank you, but I have a plan. I want to audition at the opera house."

"Do you have any formal training?" Raoul asked, looking at her skeptically.

"Christine is being trained by a very well rounded music teacher," Nadir interrupted, sensing that this conversation might end up with Raoul on his back suddenly staring up at a man with a mask. "He is quite enthusiastic about her future as an opera star. Believe me, he has done marvelous things with Christine's voice."

The reminder of Erik made Christine frown just a little bit. She bit her lip and sat up straight.

"Well, Christine I would really like to see you once again. I do not imagine that you will be returning to the mansion after what you have witnessed but it does not mean that you and I cannot see one another every one in a while." Raoul's eyes glittered at her with hope, "there are so many things that I wish to show you."

"I..." she looked to Nadir, unsure of how to respond. His face was impassive. Nadir knew very well that Erik would not like it at all, but he was not going to try and sway her decision in any way just to please Erik. "I will think about it. I would need proper clothing-

"Proper clothing?" Raoul looked at her with confusion.

"Yes. I would rather not go out into society with a vicomte looking the way I do." She laughed nervously.

"Well, whenever you would like to go out we shall go. There are many shops that I think you might enjoy." Raoul looked at his brother with wonder in his eyes, "don't you agree?"

Philippe nodded tensely and than smiled at Nadir, ignoring the confusion written all over his brothers face. "Nadir, can you point me to the restroom."

Nadir nodded and stood – leading Philippe up the stairs and leaving Raoul and Christine to themselves.

**…**

"You seem rather tense," Philippe noted quietly to Nadir as they moved down the hallway and towards the bathroom. They could overhear Raoul and Christine speaking. If they looked over the bannister they would see them. "Is there any reason why?"

Nadir looked to the observant brother with a quizzical expression.

"I catch many things that my brother does not. He is a fool if he thinks that he stands any chance with Christine. She is intelligent, and he is not."

"Well," Nadir coughed awkwardly, "it is not that exactly." They came to a stop in front of the bathroom door and Philippe waited, staring at Nadir expectantly. "Christine's music teacher is rather protective of her and would rather she not go out and see others who are possible romantic interests."

"He'd rather she just focus on her music."

"Exactly."

"Well," Philippe opened the door and shrugged, "I suppose it is for the best. My brother and Christine would not be a good match. He is much too fickle, and Christine much to kind to deserve the life of a house wife."

**…**

From where he sat Erik was seething. This stupid boy Raoul de Chagny! How Erik hated him. He hated everything about him, from the way he spoke, to the way he laughed at what Christine said. He especially detested the boy's urge to say her name after everything. He despised Raoul more than he despised himself if that was possible.

"Christine," Roaul laughed, "you are far too humorous."

"Thank you," she said back. Erik could hear the smile in her voice. He did not know how much more of this he could take. It was becoming unbearable.

"Tell me Christine, what do you propose to do now after today's events?"

Christine paused for a moment. Then she answered, "I suppose I will look for a job elsewhere. I do not mean to offend you but I do not think that I can work for your father anymore. I intend to go and collect the last of my pay and then I will look somewhere else."

"If you'd like any reference jut tell me. I know many places that would be lucky to have someone like you."

"Thank you," she nodded – smiling again. Erik knew it by the silence. He knew her facial mannerisms too well now.

Was she actually enjoying her conversation with that fool of a boy? Raoul de Chagny was nothing but an idiot. A blushing moron who thought he would successfully worm his way into Christine's life. But Erik would not have it. He would crush Raoul under his heel like the trash that he was.

"Christine... I wanted to ask you something," Raoul murmured in a tone too intimate for Erik's liking. He stood up suddenly and listened carefully from the doorway.

"What is it Raoul?"

"I would really appreciate it if you accepted my invitation... I would like to take you on a tour of the city. I understand that you have been here for quite a while but perhaps I can show you another side that you might not have experienced before. I find that if I should leave here today without an answer than I might lose my much needed sleep tonight."

_No, no, no. _

Erik moved before he thought about it. Wrenching a cabinet open he grabbed one of Nadir's old tea cups just as Christine opened her mouth in the room beside him. Without thinking, Erik dropped it.

**…**

"What in the world," Christine stood up sharply as the sound of porcelain breaking sounded through the air. Raoul looked to the kitchen with confusion as Nadir came storming down the steps.

"What was that?" He spoke through his teeth, but he already knew. He had heard the exchange between Raoul and Christine and he knew that Erik was listening from the kitchen. It happened all too coincidentally that at the very moment in which Raoul proposed the idea of seeing the city a cup had shattered in the wake of the question.

"I do not know," Christine whispered, looking to the kitchen, truly confused.

"Let me go see what it was, perhaps, it was the cat." Nadir lied through his teeth with a tense smile. Raoul nodded and took a seat, Christine followed suit.

"I was not aware that you had a cat," Raoul stated.

"Oh... yes," Christine laughed shakily, "he doesn't like to be seen."

**…**

When Nadir walked into the kitchen he instantly found Erik with his hands on the counter top and his muscles taut with anger. The tea cup that he had shattered was still on the ground. Nadir resisted the rage building in his chest as he looked up to Erik who was turning to him, but it faded as he caught sight of Erik expression.

He had misread his tense body language as anger but now he saw that it was actually... panic. A sort of panic that was difficult to read, but he had seen Erik enough to know what this was.

"She is going to say yes, is she not?" Erik whispered so that they might not hear him in the other room. "She is going to go and see him, and then she will return with a ring on her finger and the news that she will be marrying him."

"Erik," Nadir rubbed his forehead carefully. Trying to remind himself of the fact that the man, was more like a boy, and that whatever fears Erik had were all due to his past. He also did his best to remember that Erik was more young than he seemed. "Did you smash the tea cup on purpose."

"Yes." Anger built in Erik's face as he heard Raoul's voice in the other room, he was laughing again, "I hate him."

"Erik-

"I want him out Nadir." He pushed away from the counter and began his furious pacing again, "they will all drive me mad," he insisted, "Christine too. She must remember that I too live here for the time being. I do not like to be confined to small spaces. I have been in the kitchen for too long now and I want out. Tell her to take her damnable friends elsewhere." A rage like he had not known was building in him. How dare she laugh with that fiend? It was like she was mocking him! Laughing and enjoying herself while he remained secluded to the kitchen. "Tell him to leave or I will throw them out myself."

Nadir analyzed Erik for a moment before he nodded, agreeing. Erik seemed to be losing his composure the more seconds he stood in this kitchen. Rather than see his whole tea cup collection shattered he responded, "Yes, you are quite right. They have been here for quite some time and you do not deserve to be confined here. I will return. In the mean time, clean this." He pointed to the floor and then strode out to the living room.

"Is everything alright?" Christine looked back towards Nadir with a knowing gaze. He gave her a tense nod and than smiled politely in Raoul's direction. "Raoul you must forgive me but I must ask that you leave. Christine and I have something very important to discuss."

"I understand," Raoul smiled at him, admittedly sad to have to leave Christine.

Philippe came down the stairs next and after being informed that they must leave he promised to return tomorrow in the morning to see Aleyenne.

"Tell her that I will come back," he spoke to Christine. She nodded quietly and waved them both goodbye. Once they were out the door Christine turned to face Nadir.

"What happened? Why did they have to go. It is unfair to make Philippe leave, you know that he was very worried about Aleyenne."

"Erik has been confined to the kitchen for a while now," Nadir murmured, taking a seat. Christine sighed and nodded.

"You are right..."

Erik appeared in the doorway and strode out quietly. Nadir instantly noticed that he seemed to have calmed significantly and was also ignoring Christine. He took a seat in his usual chair and stared at the fire. Christine was also ignoring Erik and did not do so much as look in his direction.

Sighing heavily Nadir ran a hand over his face.

"The two of you are absolutely exhausting."

Christine looked to Erik with a glare. He glared right back at her.

Nadir threw his hands up. "What happened!"

"Nothing," Christine murmured, "_nothing_ at all."

"Behave your age Christine," Erik retorted, rolling his eyes.

"Be quiet," she hissed in his direction.

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you go in there and shatter more tea cups!"

"Why you-

Nadir burst into laughter as Erik's eyes bulged at Christine and she blushed. Despite how much he wanted to shake her he found himself fighting a smirk. She always had the ability to make him want to smile, even when she behaved as petulantly as she just did. Fighting the urge to smile he gave a small smirk instead. She blushed even deeper and pressed her lips tightly together, trying to hide the grin working itself to the surface.

"I will repay you for the tea cup."

"You had better," Nadir chuckled wiping a tear away from his face. "Now, I do not want to hear any more arguing. I want the house silent for the rest of the day. Can you please do that for me?" He pleaded with them.

They both nodded, like two scolded children.

The rest of the evening Christine read and Erik sketched in silence. Nadir was too absorbed in his book to say much but Christine and Erik were not.

Instead they kept glancing at one another. Christine got caught staring every time and Erik's smirk grew in size whenever he caught her. Once again, despite his annoyance he could not help but enjoy her little antics.

Eventually Nadir retreated to his bedroom and Christine stayed reading. Erik had sketched out his designs for their lair and when at last he felt he had perfected them he looked up at her. Christine actually had her eyes on her book this time and did not notice him standing and walking over to her. He was eager to show her the designs, and hoped that she would like them.

When at last Christine noticed Erik's presence she looked up from her book steadily. Her pretty blue eyes shined at Erik as he handed her the large sketch pad. "What is this?"

"Drawings of our lair," Erik murmured, watching her expression carefully. Trying to ignore the sight of her lips as they parted with shock. He would dream of her lips for as long as he lived, and he would fantasize about her reaction, not of horror, but of need - for as long as he had the ability to think, "are there any suggestions you would make?"

"Wow," Christine whispered – her shock was obvious. "Erik these are so beautiful."

"Thank you," he looked at the drawing. It was all for her.

"I'm certain that when the time comes... our home will be something to be envious of."

"It will be," he agreed, smiling. _Once we are in our home that Raoul boy will never bother us again._

His thoughts turned to that kiss... it would haunt him for till the end of time in the most pleasant way.

* * *

**Aw Erik :( Cwisteene :( It's all good though, I've written up to chapter 40 and must now begin the task of plotting out the last half of the story :)**

**Now a warning: Things will become a lot more ... violent from this chapter onward so expect to read some uncomfortable things. Rated M for a reason loves :) **


	36. Fatal

**Chapter XXXVI**

When Philippe returned the next morning Christine had to admit that she was slightly surprised and taken aback by Raoul's absence. Philippe followed Nadir up to the second floor of the home and checked on Aleyenne. Downstairs Christine wondered what the reasoning for Raoul's absence was.

From where Erik stood he could see that something was bothering Christine. Quietly he stepped out from the kitchen and inquired about her thoughts. He made it clear by his tone of voice that he suspected something was bothering her. He just couldn't imagine what it was.

"Raoul..." the name set him on edge when it escaped her perfect mouth. A mouth that he still thought about. She had kissed him and … and he had lived. And she had not sobbed or shoved him away with repulsion. The thought on its own was distracting enough to remove his temporary annoyance. But when Christine turned to him with those conflicted eyes it brought it rushing back again like a tidal wave. "I do not know why he has not come. I imagine that it has everything to do with his father but now I wonder if I insulted him somehow..."

"Why are you concerning yourself with such unimportant people?"

"Erik," she touched her forehead cautiously, treading carefully now, "I know that you are not fond of Raoul. I understand that he is very different from you. Also very different from I. But that does not mean that you have any logical reason for your distaste. Raoul is a kind man, he is... a friend."

"A friend," Erik resisted the urge to smirk. She was so naïve. _He's an admirer Christine, not a friend, sweet girl. _

"Yes Erik, a friend, but never mind that. What are your plans this evening?"

Erik told her of his idea to travel to the opera house and follow up on some ideas he had. She admitted that she was feeling terribly curious. Nadir had not shared many details with her about what the lair looked like. "You'll see soon enough Christine," Erik murmured softly, his velvety voice made her smile.

Nadir and Philippe eventually came down the stairs and Erik went back into hiding, this time he had a book to keep him entertained. Philippe sat down and asked Nadir about when it would be safe to move Aleyenne.

"She can be moved now if she'd like. I'd just rather she remain here for another day. A precaution to make sure that the wounds are treated properly during the first few hours after exposure."

"I understand," Philippe nodded.

Christine watched his wary expression for a long time. She wondered what it would be like to be in his position. If Erik were hurt... well she had seen Erik hurt. She remembered her terror and ultimately her plan to take action. But Philippe seemed rather... calm.

"What do you plan to do, Philippe?" Christine asked, not bothering with formalities. They were beyond that.

"What do you mean?"

"About Aleyenne? Surely she does not plan to return to your household. I do not imagine that your father will take that very well."

"I do not know." He ran a hand over his tired face. "I just.. I do not know."

**…**

The day was long and uneventful. When Christine and Erik finally had the home to themselves after Nadir had left to run a few errands she began to feel uneasy and skeptical. The prospects of being alone with him after what had transpired the day before were immediately nerve wracking. Nothing good could come out of it. But it wouldn't be his fault, and she knew it.

Christine couldn't stop watching him like a hawk. Every movement he made she caught, every breath he took she memorized. There was a certain fluidity to his movements that made her more interested in watching him. Christine was intently gazing at Erik when she heard a soft rapping at the front door. Erik looked up, quite annoyed at the sound and then suspicious. Christine looked to him with confusion and stood to get it.

"Do not open it, you do not know who it could be." Erik stood and quietly glided towards the door. Once there he pressed his ear against the wood, as if he could hear through it and then discern who stood on the other side. "Christine, go hide."

"Erik you are ridiculous!" She hissed quietly and moved towards the door. Once there Christine put her hand on the doorknob and stared up at Erik. He could see the determination in her gaze and relented.

"Fine, you may open the door. But wait just a moment until I return."

Christine waited as Erik moved into the kitchen. Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again gently and waited patiently. Suddenly Erik appeared and came in Christine's direction, in his hand a knife glistened.

"Erik!" She hissed and rolled her eyes, "that is ridiculous-

"You never know. If you insist on opening the door then I will be just within arms length while remaining hidden." He tightened his grip on the knife.

A part of her wanted to laugh, but mostly she was in shock. "Erik put the knife away."

"No," he said seriously. His amber eyes flashed as the knocking continued. Quietly they both glared at one another and then she gave up and moved towards the door. Erik positioned himself just beside it, when she opened the door he'd be perfectly concealed behind it. Taking a deep breath Christine pulled it open.

Raoul stared back at her with something akin to surprise. She couldn't quite understand his expression. It was as if he was not expecting to find her here at all. But who else did he expect to be here? _Perhaps Nadir, _she reasoned as they both blinked at one another.

"Christine," he breathed her name softly. She blinked. "I... hello. Good evening."

"Raoul," Christine smiled tensely. Behind the door Erik wondered if she would forgive him if he sprung and chased Raoul down the street with the blade in hand. _How indecent of him, _Erik thought as he readjusted his grip on the blade, _to show up here unannounced at this hour. _"What... what are you doing here?"

"I came here to see you." He smiled kindly and swallowed back the knot in his throat. "Christine I... I must speak with you. May I come inside?"

"I am afraid not Raoul," she spoke with a genuine lament, but her reason were more than false, "Nadir is not home at this moment and it would be improper of me to invite you inside his home without his explicit permission, I am sure you understand."

"I do, I do. I do not need to go inside at all," he smiled. The color of his eyes shined at her as if he had nothing in the world to worry about. "Christine I need to speak with you. It is urgent."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes," he laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. The motion caught Christine's eyes and Erik wondered what it was that had caused her expression to suddenly look so dazed. _It is his beauty, _he reasoned, _of course Christine would fall to his charms. _"From the moment I met you Christine I knew that there was something... special, or otherwise intriguing about you. I do not know what it was and I knew that I wouldn't rest until I found out. When I realized that you were in fact female I found myself relieved for reasons that I will not delve into," the hue of his cheeks changed as he said this. Christine remained naively confused and Erik's teeth went on edge. Raoul stepped forward shyly. "Christine... I want your permission..."

"Permission?" Her eyes widened with confusion.

"To court you, I want your consent." He took her hand in his own and stepped a bit closer. Behind the door, just a few inches away Erik's eyes widened and narrowed. Confusion swirled about him, it was infuriating. He did not like the ideas that this vicomte had in mind. He did not know why he felt so defensive about Christine. It made him... tense.

"Raoul?"

"Christine," he stepped forward once again, closing the distance between the two of them and touched her cheek fondly. Her eyes glittered at his touch and Christine forgot about Erik. He seemed to have vanished from her mind entirely as Raoul's eyes lit down at her. A tremble moved through his hand as he moved his mouth closer to her own. Christine seemed to be mildly unaware of what was happening, and yet her eyes lowered to his lips. "May I kiss you?"

Behind the door Erik's body seized. Kiss her?

_The damn fool! I will have his head for-_

Christine did not receive time to answer. It seemed to Raoul that the hazed look in her eye was enough of an answer.

His mouth was soft on hers. They molded themselves carefully against her own and unlike Erik's they were not passionate, if not... gentle. Light like a feather. His lips were as smooth as silk, not uneven and rough. Christine let out a hard breath as she realized exactly what she was doing. Her hands found his shoulders and Raoul's slid down to her hips. He could feel the tension in her mouth as she debated kissing him back, but she allowed his lips to glide against hers and his breath to gently creep against the flesh of her lips. His hands pulled her closer to him carefully, and her will begged her to open her lips, to allow him access to her hot cavern of her mouth... She sighed gently when Raoul's fingers gently pressed into the clothing she wore. It was when he released a soft moan the silence split.

"No... no," she said in a strong voice, placing her hands at his shoulders and gently removing him from her person. His lips were a deep pink and his face was flushed. The haze in his eye worried Christine and for a moment all she did was stare at him. What had taken over him? And why had she enjoyed the kiss? Why did she stop?

_Erik.._

"Christine?" Raoul's eyes widened with shame, "forgive me, I –

"There is nothing to forgive," she assured him, "I kissed you as well. There is nothing to forgive."

He blinked at her shyly and blushed. "Then you.. you enjoyed it." Now it was her turn to blush. It crept up her neck and lit up her face. "You did..." he smiled softly, "it is okay to enjoy it."

_Not when Erik lies just on the other side of the door ready to spring at any moment, _she thought warily.

"What does this mean?"

Christine looked up at him with confusion, "what does this mean?"

"Yes," Raoul bit his lip, "do you... return my affection for you? Is it mutual? I must know Christine this has been eating away at me. I am not making a declaration of love. I only wish to know you more and understand you."

"I am not sure that you and I could ever understand one another Raoul." Her eyes darted to her feet, "you and I come from very different worlds and your father has made it quite clear that he has certain expectations for his sons. And when they are not met... the consequences are severe," the reminder of Aleyenne seemed to darken his expression.

"I do not care about what he thinks. I care about what you think. What is it that you think?"

"I think that you should return home now Raoul... you do not know what it is that you are saying."  
He shook his head, "do not mock me Christine. I am not a love sick fool hell bent on having you. I have never been more clear."

_That is precisely the problem, _she thought nervously.

"I will give you some time to think on all that has happened tonight Christine. I will not pursue you if you do not wish it. But I must have an answer."

She nodded, "that is fair."

"Very well then," he swallowed nervously and turned to walk out the door. "Goodnight Christine..."

"Goodnight Raoul..."

And with that she shut the door.

**…**

Everything was still.

Erik stared at Christine, and she stared at the door. Her breathing was deep, and becoming more shallow with each passing moment. Something in her told her to be afraid, to worry. But another side of her rebelled. Why should she care about what Erik thinks about it, he had made his feelings very clear on where they stood.

With that thought she turned to him with a smile.

"It was just Raoul."

"Of course it was Raoul," he spit, "I knew that the moment you opened the door." She rolled her eyes and turned to go to her chair, Erik watched her with anger. _Why am I angry? _He wondered as he forced his jaw to unlock. "He kissed you." The words felt like fire on his tongue. He did not know how to say it and not sound absolutely disgusted by it. Christine dropped onto the couch in a very unladylike manner, and stared at him, almost expectantly. "How could you have kissed him? He is disgusting. His kind judge our actions as if we are criminals doing what we do for sport. Do you know what he'd say if he knew all that you've done to survive? He'd scorn you and curse you for being a survivor."

"You have no right to judge me," she muttered angrily, noticing the way he quivered. "You have no right to-

"Stop it," he warned her quietly, stepping forward and dropping the knife onto Nadir's small table. "I tell you these things not because I wish you harm but because you should know that these... people are not people to surround yourself with. They are selfish!" His amber eyes widened with anger, "how can you be so blind. I see it in your eyes Christine. You are thinking to ..." Erik's rage grew as she blushed. "You would give yourself to that fool!" He thundered angrily. Christine shrieked and stood up quickly, backing away from him as Erik began to come after her, his hands were balled. "He is nothing! He will destroy everything that you and I have dreamed of. He will never know your potential and he will _never_ love you! He will love what he believes you to be but he does not know you does he Christine? He does not know that you are a survivalist-

"Stop-

"Or that you would kill to survive. He does not understand you and he will _never_ understand you!" Erik's amber eyes seemed to stretch horribly wide. The possibility of losing Christine was enraging him more and more, and it frightened Christine. She could see the awful emotions twisting his mouth, deepening his voice, making it a terrible slithering sound unlike anything she had ever heard before. Her eyes watered at his words and finally she hit a wall. Erik stopped in front of her shaking and glaring.

"Have you stopped to consider that he will just throw you away into the street? You and I are street rats Christine," Erik reminded her bitterly, "he will not love you. You are unlovable to his kind. You are uncouth, rough. Unrefined and wild. He would tame you!" He seized the moment to grasp her arm and hold up her arm, "he wants you to bear his children. Look at you! Look! You –

"Stop it Erik!"

"You are _Christine, _have you forgotten about your _Angel of Music?_" The words set her on edge, "you would give up your fathers dreams for a beautiful face?"

Christine's tears slid down her face so beautifully that Erik had to stop and watch. She looked endearing even in her sadness, and he found it eerily unsettling. Despite it's beauty he did not enjoy the sight of her sadness. The girl was getting to him and he knew it all too well. It weakened him, and strengthened his resolve all the same.

"Christine?" Nadir stood at the front door that neither of them had realized was open. She turned her face and blinked away her tears. Trying her best to regain composure. Erik was finding it hard to swallow the knot in his throat. Nadir moved forward into his home with apprehension. Something was wrong and it didn't take him long to figure out that it had something to do with Erik. "Christine what is wrong?"

"Nothing," she smirked nonchalantly, turning to face Nadir. Now that she had dried her eyes she looked as if though nothing was wrong. But Nadir could see the tension in her limbs. Also, the anger all over Erik's demeanor. "I am going to sleep on the floor beside Aleyenne tonight. I plan to get up early tomorrow."

"Oh," Nadir nodded, still suspicious of what exactly was going on. "Alright, good night."

Christine gave him a curt nod and then escaped to go up the stairs without saying a word to Erik.

The two men stood in silence for a long time. Their seemed to be a calm resolve sliding over Erik's expression. _I have to move us in by the end of this month, _he reasoned quietly, _I cannot afford to lose anymore time. _

"Erik, I've handled it." Nadir murmured, drawing Erik out of his thoughts, "the beds are in the Opera house."

"Perfect... all that is left are the candles, and the safety measures to ensure no wanders happen upon my home."

Nadir nodded and then watched Erik as he took a seat. "What is it that Christine has to do tomorrow?"

Erik looked up at him blankly, "tomorrow Christine will leave early and see Raoul in attempts to convince herself that she is doing the right thing. Everything will go well, and they will be fine. She will be angry with me for doubting her judgment. Then, some days from now he will do something that will remind her of who he is. When he does I will be here to ensure that she never see's that boy again."

* * *

**So... you think you've got it all figured out Erik? **

**Well we'll see about that. Okay my darlings, the next chapter is going to be relatively tame compared to Chapter 38. So with that being said - here is yet another warning, BE WARY OF CHAPTER 38. **


	37. Plans

**Chapter XXXVII**

The next few weeks passed uneventfully for Erik. For the most part he dedicated his time to his lair. Perfecting everything inside and exploring all that the Opera House had to offer. He would stay there after most of his work was done to compose – finding that the atmosphere provided him with the perfect inspiration to work. For all his concentration though – nothing could take Christine out of his mind. Every note he wrote somehow pertained to her. It was an homage to her, to her bravery. Even to her stubborn attitude which got them into countless arguments.

He hated how she refused to listen to him, and how disastrously beautiful she was. Her hold on him bothered him most of all, and yet he could not bring himself to want these things gone. At the end of the day all the things that made Christine who she was satisfied him as much as they infuriated him.

Christine on the other hand spent most of her day in the company of Raoul de Chagny. Nadir and Erik both noticed the soft blush that covered her cheek every time that she was dropped off at the door by Raoul. Every time she entered just a little red then the night before with a twinkle in her eye that lit up the room and darkened Erik's expression.

Nadir would question her with a protective stare, asking her how her day was. Christine would endlessly rant about the things she had seen that day and what Raoul had done for her. Whether it was offering her a flower or simply embracing her Christine behaved as if he had given her a diamond ring. It made Erik's chest tight. Could he have been wrong? Perhaps the fop would not mess up and Christine would end up falling in love with him. That is of course if she wasn't in love with him already. It was difficult for Erik to discern as he had never seen anyone who was in love. He hoped that he was wrong about Christine.

In regards to Erik Christine remained distant, even cold on some days. It was after she returned from being with Raoul de Chagny that she seemed to regain a bit of humility in her step and stare. Her eyes would flash to him and then shyly she'd duck her gaze. Her pretty blue eyes would emit the old glow and regard they once held for him, in response his would burn with a rekindled fire against the Vicomte.

"What do you think of this?" Nadir asked Erik one night as they were returning from the Opera house. He imagined that Erik was bothered by the entire situation and that for the most part he would rather Christine was not involved with the de Chagny's. _But is it _because _of Raoul de Chagny, or because he would rather have Christine to himself? They are really two different things, _Nadir contemplated as they strolled back home.

"I do not give such unimportant things so much value Nadir. In time Christine will come to her senses and see that he is nothing but a moronic imbecile with the brain of an infant chimp." Erik smirked then, "and when that time comes Christine will return to us, where she belongs. In the meantime I will allow her the immaturity that has come over her. I will let her enjoy herself."

"Let her?" Nadir laughed at that, "whatever has made you think that you can control Christine has to be a truly amazing thing Erik. You have absolutely no control over her an you know that very well. You will do best to remember it lest she remind you in one of her many... ladylike ways."

Nadir could remember the last time Christine had gotten into an argument. It was not with Erik, if not with herself. She was talking about the way people had stared at her and Raoul as they walked down the street.

"Have they never seen a female before!" She exclaimed angrily, throwing her hands onto her hips and pacing as Nadir watched her. Over the weeks Christine's flesh had taken a healthy glow. She had gained weight and her hair was coming in very nicely. "They stare as if I am a fish out of water. I should have said something, but I did not want to embarrass Raoul. Those little girls in their dresses! How they gawked! I wanted to slap the grins right off their faces!"

"Yes," Erik mused at Nadir's statement, "she does have a way with words."

Christine on the other hand was standing outside her door with Raoul. He was staring down at her with a look so intimate that it would have made many onlookers uncomfortable. She shivered under his intense stare and worried that he might do something completely uncalled for – like what she and Erik had done in the bathroom.

"You are simply lovely, surely you know that," he smiled softly at her and stroked her cheek. Christine had come to understand that Raoul was all gentle and soft, not the beastly man that Erik could be. "Do you?"

"No," she giggled softly, "I am certainly not lovely. I am a girl off the street Raoul. You must have me confused for someone else."

"I do not," he smiled gently and suddenly brought his hands to her hips. She bit her lip – hoping that he might kiss her as he pressed her into the door, "you are... wonderful. In every sense of the word. You are intelligent, and outspoken. Everyday you say something that leaves me awake in the night wondering about it. You are superb."

"Is that why you have those circles under your eyes?" She laughed gently, teasing him, "you've been staying up musing about the things I say?"

He grinned at her and nodded, "of course."

"Then perhaps I should say nothing at all. I will keep my lips closed and speak no more."

One of his perfect brows arched and he pressed his lips gently against the tip of her nose, "then perhaps I must entice you to speak, my lady?" Christine watched with anticipation as his mouth began to come nearer and nearer to her own. She found her heart was quickly palpitating in her excitement.

"I'm no lady.." she mumbled just before he pressed his lips to her own.

Christine shivered softly against his chest and allowed him the pleasure of embracing her. She did not know what to think as her drew her closer. She could only rest her hands on his shoulders and rise on her toes to allow him better access. Still Christine could not help but compare his kiss to Erik's. Raoul was soft, gentle, and even as she pushed a little harder, hoping to illicit something animalistic in him he refused to budge, treating her like breakable glass.

Christine allowed herself to release a hearty moan and she pushed her tongue past her lips and against his. Raoul sighed with pleasure and kissed her back heartily. But still it was not enough. She felt nothing.

"Raoul..." she sighed and pushed him back carefully, falling back on her heel and looking up at him kindly, "why do you do that?"

"Kiss you?" he licked his lips. There was a light dancing in his eyes unlike anything she had ever seen. He looked elated. "I kiss you because it is what I wish to do."

"No, not that," she licked her own lips and continued, "you kiss and touch me as if I am breakable. You can... how do I put this? You do not have to treat me that way, you understand?"

He stared at her for a moment and then smirked, shaking his head. "Christine, I will never treat you like anything less than a lady."

When Raoul left after kissing her cheeks gently Christine entered the house and rubbed her forehead. She could not understand Raoul's fixation with her being lady like. Why did he not accept that she was anything but ladylike.

When Erik and Nadir arrived Christine greeted them both with friendly smiles. Nadir asked her how her day went – albeit with suspicious eyes and noticed that while Christine seemed to be in good graces there was something strange about her stare. She seemed concentrated on something but he did not know what it was.

"Is there something in particular on your mind Christine?" Nadir asked with inquisitive eyes. Her stare locked on nothing and she gave up the information more willingly then he or Erik had expected.

"I was with Raoul earlier as you know. And I found that he continued to persist on the subject matter of me being treated like a lady. He was not imposing the topic on me but whenever there was a break in conversation that allowed him to bring it up he would. When I deflected the title – reminding him that I am not a lady he seemed to dismiss it."

Erik resisted a smirk as he sat down and opened up a book of poetry. He found that he was falling more and more in love with Lord Byron's poetry. Erik knew very well that this would happen. The damn fool would never see Christine for what she was. He wanted to treat her like a delicate flower – refusing to see that Christine was as grimy and as strong as any other. But he could not really blame the foolish boy. _Anyone would want to treat her like a delicate flower. Anyone would want to protect her from her whims. _

"Do not take it as an insult," Nadir smiled kindly, "think of it as a … a sort of compliment."

"I am not a lady Nadir. When he holds my hand it's like if I were a feather, even the way he speaks. Using soft words and small words as if I am too stupid to understand any others. He becomes fascinated when I speak only because he thinks that I am going to remain politely silent to whatever ignorant thought he spews forward. He even kisses me like a lady. I don't want to be kissed like a lady! I want-" She stopped herself short and turned tomato red.

Nadir and Erik both raised brows – but for different reasons.

The Persian was confused. What had she meant to say? That she did not want all the gentleness that was missing from her life? He could not understand exactly what she was getting at but then again – he was not sure that he really wanted to. He had come to see Christine as a sort of child that he never had, and Erik as a sort of apprentice. He had taught Erik many things about medicine and had come to learn many things about music in the process. Both youths were very dear to him, but in very different ways. The thought of Christine being roughly kissed as she seemed to suggest as not a pleasant thought.

Erik on the other hand was raising his brow in curiosity and understanding. What Christine wanted was very clear by the sweet rose red color of her cheeks. She wanted violent kisses – bruises on her lips and tenacious fingers gripping at her back, clutching her closer and a battle of tongues. _What a feral woman, _he thought as she stood up sharply. The idea of Raoul kissing her did not bother him as much as he thought it would. He quite enjoyed knowing that with every caress the boy managed to push her farther and farther away. _Let him persist. _

But there was something that bothered Erik, and it was the fact that Christine seemed to enjoy the fops presence nonetheless.

That is why he spoke then.

"Why not just stop talking to the fool altogether. We are moving into our lair soon. He cannot continue to see you as regularly as he does. You and I must focus on training your voice. He has put a halt to our progress far enough. Once we move into the opera house he cannot continue to persist in seeing you as he does now. And he will most certainly not know where we live. However, knowing his foolish nature he will do everything in his power to ensure that he knows where it is that you reside." He shifted then, noticing her confused stare, "I trust that you have enough sense to have a plan out of this ridiculous courtship?"

Her eyes tensed at Erik. It had been a while since they fought, and she did not intend to start now. Calmly she swallowed and nodded, "yes I have a plan. But I do not hope that you think that I will cease all contact with him. Raoul and I are friends above all and I owe him many things."

"You owe him nothing at all," Erik reminded her, "you owe more to his awful father than he."

She stayed silent for a moment an then spoke again, "Raoul and I will not see one another with as much frequency as we do now. But do not expect that I will simply stop talking to him because you insist upon it."

"You will see him for what he is sooner or later," Erik promised.

The first week after that conversation Erik saw a bit of change in her demeanor. Christine appeared more somber, and when Nadir asked her why in privacy he overheard her explaining that she was giving more thought to his words. He was glad to hear that she had enough sense in her to understand that his words were true and Raoul could not be a part of her life so long as she planned to live inside the Opera House.

A week after that conversation Raoul began to sense Christine's withdrawal. She dodged his kisses at every turn and suddenly became too sick to stay out late. She was home earlier and earlier each day. His confusion gave way to hurt and finally after the third week anger.

Christine and Erik were quietly sitting inside of the kitchen, discussing different matters.

"I can cook!" She defended with a smirk playing at her lips, "Nadir has been giving me lessons."

"Christine," Erik rubbed his forehead, "I wish to live a long life. Your cooking while not all too terrible is still... borderline poisonous."

Christine scoffed and laughed, playfully raising a hand as if to slap him, "how dare you. You just watch Erik, I am going to have you drooling for more of my food."

"Until then, I will be in charge of all the cooking in our home." He smirked.

"Our home..." she liked the sound of that, and the grin that lit her face was perfect. Erik found his heart giving wild stutters as he stared. She was beautiful. Every day she grew more radiant. Her cheeks had filled out and her lips had began to flourish with color.

"Yes Christine, our home." And for his part Erik began to fill out too. Christine noticed that while he was still skinny and rather gaunt there seemed to be a new imposing aura to his physique. He looked like he was capable of some sort of damage if he really put his mind to it. Although – she had seen his capabilities in action already.

She had come to the understanding that her feelings for Erik were deeper than just friendship. In her own way she understood that there were so many things she wanted to know about him. Simple things like what his favorite color was, what he thought about when he found himself bored. She wanted to know other things as well, things of a more carnal nature. How passionate he was about the opposite sex... specifically about her.

At night Christine found that her thoughts ran back to the day he had kissed her. She had plotted out all the different ways she could make that scenario happen again but always backed out at the last moment. _What is it that draws me to him? _She wondered as she appraised him. His amber eyes were shining at her. She swore that he knew exactly what she was thinking... she ducked her head, hoping that she was wrong.

A succession of rapid knocks suddenly sounded through the air. Christine's wide eyes narrowed in suspicion as she eyeballed Erik. Who could be at the door at this hour? She hoped that it was not Raoul – she was not sure that she was in the mood to see him.

"One moment!" She called standing. Erik stood up as well and followed her to the door. His eyes were tight with paranoia while her own were simply confused. What an indecent hour to show up to someone's home. But perhaps it was a patient for Nadir. Yes, that had to be it. "Who is there?"

"Monsieur de Chagny," called Raoul's father from the other side. Instantly her hairs stood up on edge. What was this man doing here? She looked back to Erik whose expression had taken a sour turn. "I am here to speak with Gregor. I owe him some money you see."

"Erik you must leave," she whispered softly turning to face him and instantly blocking his path to the door. She could see the intensity that burned there. If she allowed it he would hurt this man or worse. She did not put it past him, and she did not trust his temper enough to simply send him into another room. The fire continued to burn in his gaze, "Erik please, just step outside for a few minutes. Go for a walk around the block This will only take a few minutes."

"I do not trust that man," Erik whispered harshly as Monsieur de Chagny continued to wait.

"Everything will be fine I promise you. He will most likely give me the money and sit down for some small chatter. Please leave Erik I know your temper. I do not trust that you will simply stay silent up there."

They stared at one another for a while. Christine's heart was beating a bit faster now. If Erik did not leave she was not all too certain that she would invite Monsieur de Chagny inside. It would be safer that he did not enter. But alas Erik nodded and swallowed the urge to shout.

"I will leave for you Christine," he touched her shoulder gently, "only because I do not wish you to feel uncomfortable. I will return in thirty minutes."

"Yes Erik, thank you." A strange urge rose in her to touch his lips with her own but she resisted. A ghost smile spread over his face and without another word he turned to leave. She waited until she heard the sound of the kitchen door closing – signaling his exit. Silently and without anymore delay Christine turned to the entrance and opened the door.

Monsieur de Chagny stood there with a proud look on his face. His eyes darkened at the sight of her. It was as if her presence was some sort of insult to his person.

"Gregor," he sneered, "or shall I call you Christine?"

Her eyes flashed with disgust, "_Christine _will be fine sir."

* * *

**It's about to go down. **

**:) Tell me what you think.**


	38. Thirty Eight

_Remember my warning in the last chapter. Sexual graphic scene coming up, a violent one. _

_TRIGGER WARNING!_

* * *

**Chapter XXVIII**

"Your disrespect knows no bounds," he sneered again, "you lie to me, and then you leave without warning. And to make matters worse you turn my own son against me."

"I have done no such thing," Christine defended herself proudly, "your sons do what they do but I have nothing to do with it Sir. At no point have I tried to turn them against you. I have no reason to do such a thing and I have no interest in it either. You are the one who is insulting. How dare you come to my home and make unfounded accusations."

"Unfounded!" He chortled bitterly before shoving her roughly into the house. Christine gasped as he stepped inside and shut the door loudly. "I have no reason to believe that you've turned my sons against me? I will agree that Philippe's antics have very little to do with you. The boy has been rebellious since the day he clawed his way out of his mothers womb. But you have indeed turned Raoul against his family. Do you think I am foolish, _girl?" _

"I do, _man." _Her stern stare made his face turn beet red with anger.

"Foolish? If I were foolish I would allow my son to continue to see you. But I will do so no longer. In fact my son will never see you again. You are a proud little street rat who thinks herself to be above all others. You come into my home a liar and you leave a whore-

"How dare you!" She yelled, "I have never slept with your sons or anyone under your household."

"But you were planning to, weren't you, _whore? " _The word was like a slap in the face, and his mustache twitched as his lip surely was beneath it. The steel color in his gaze left her breathless with fear as he advanced on her in the middle of the living room. "You wanted to be fat with a de Chagny child. It's why you lured Raoul to you."

"I have not-" her voice was choked as he reached forward for her arm, yanking her viciously and throwing her onto the nearest seat. Christine yelped as she fell back against it, the overwhelming shock of what just happened settled in until after she felt the stinging at her back from the harsh landing on the chair. "Don't you ever touch me!" She yelled angrily. "How are you!"

The rage in his face exploded, "who do you think you are to tell me what I can and cannot do! Especially with a rat like yourself! Where is Nadir! I would have words with him..." a spark of light went through his face. His cheeks turned pink, "but that damn Persian was probably aware of all that you had done-

"Don't speak of Nadir that way!" She hissed viciously, coming to a stand, "get out of his home. He is not here right now but he will be returning at any moment. And do not return. If I see you here once again I will alert the authorities."

For a moment the man's face was blank. He hadn't been expecting that. He remained silent for a moment as Christine stared at him, breathing heavily from outrage. Who did this man think he was? A God? She could not wrap her head around his audacity. But she remained silent nonetheless, waiting for him to make his exit.

Then he began to laugh.

"What is so funny?" Christine growled angrily.

"You are," the nasty smirk on his lips was hardly concealed beneath the thick line of hair above his mouth.

The air changed as she noticed his slow movements. He began to take off his cravat, it was a soft yellow color. Christine tensed as he lazily moved it off his throat and then began to walk towards her with the cravat in hand.

"I will hurt you," she threatened him honestly.

"Haha!" He barked, "you think you can fight me, girl?"

"Yes," Christine growled viciously, "I can, you vile, repulsive, beast."

"Beast," he hissed and suddenly charged at her. "I will show you a beast."

Before he could move Christine ran around the chair and tossed it down to the ground to block his path. He moved over it and made a reach for her as she tried to run around it and get to the door. In his fervor he grabbed onto her arm and viciously pulled her back, efficiently slamming her back against the bannister of the stairs. Christine yelped and crumpled to the ground.

"You little mongrel!" The man hissed when as she choked on the pain overwhelming her body. And yet, all she could think was that she hoped these marks would not be permanent, and that Erik would not notice. "Get up!" He angrily hissed and grabbed her around the hair. Christine gave another wild shriek and he held her up to his face. His eyes burned into her, "did you think I was stupid? That I wouldn't notice my sons constant absence?"

"Damn you!" She spit harshly in his face and made an attempt to thrust her knee between his legs but hit him in the thigh instead. Again she tried, cursing and scratching at him so viciously that she broke skin on his arms. He hissed when she clipped him in the cheek, her hand popped into pain as her knuckles came into contact with his face. It hardly affected him.

M. de Chagny slammed her face first into the floor. Colorful lights exploded in her vision and she swore she could taste the wood. Her nose throbbed and she wailed as she swore she heard a crack. Suddenly she became aware of the way he was pressing his body down against her own. Christine stiffened, terrified. What was he doing? Her heart drummed so fast in her chest that she could feel her entire body reverberating with the movement. "Did you think I didn't notice?"

"Stop!" She shrieked wildly as he covered her mouth. Christine fought viciously and tried biting his meaty fingers as he thrust his hands into the pants she wore and groped her painfully hard. Tears welled in her eyes and for the first time in her life she knew she would kill. She was going to kill him. Her heart almost faltered under the understanding that this was going to happen to her. He was going to overpower her.

"A girl," he hissed in her ear, "I suspected it for a while but dismissed it."

_Please God, no, no. Erik! Where is Erik? _

He gave a grunt and she felt his horrible hands pulling down at her pants. She made an attempt to roll out from under him but his body weight was more than twice her own and he was laying on her, forcing her to focus more on her breathing than on escape. When she made an attempt to bite his fingers she felt him lift slightly but did not anticipate the oncoming attack. He hammered his fist into the back of her head twice. The resounding crack weakened her, she could only break into hard sobs. No one was going to come and save her. The harsh reality of that made her quiver with more intensity than she thought possible.

"You disgusting little _user_," he hissed in her ear. Christine sobbed at the feeling of his hands on her backside. She was exposed. She had never been this exposed in her entire life. This was not supposed to happen to her. _How_ could this be happening!"I suspected you were a girl the moment I noticed that pretty throat of yours," he laughed darkly and she could feel him working his pants down with ease, taking his sweet time. Her head was throbbing with pain, "and those girlish shoes you wore."

"Please!" She yelled through the hand on her mouth, he angrily hit her again, closer to the temple. Lights gleamed in her vision as she sluggishly tried to control all her senses. Christine never felt so weak in her life. "Erik..." She reached forward, straining for nothing in particular.

"Shut your mouth, _girl._" He suddenly rolled her over. Above her he looked monstrous. He was a fat man with the most sickening look on his face. He looked strangely controlled, as if this was nothing to him, as if this was something that he did everyday. But there was still that anger... that terrifying rage at the surface. And an eerie sense of control.

"Please," she rasped as he pinned her wrists above her head, crushing her hands with his body weight while also pulling himself out from his trousers. The sight of him made her hysterical. He was going to take the only thing she had left to herself, her body. "No, no, no!" She fought as he then pulled her pants down her thighs. His knuckles raked against her skin as he did so. Viciously Christine caught him in the cheek with her knee but suffered for it when he brought his fist down into her stomach. She couldn't breathe.

"Would you like to know what the most beautiful thing about all of this is?" He asked as is hands began to travel underneath her shirt. Her eyes streamed with tears as he groped her breast and pinch at the sensitive skin there. She twisted and turned, crying and hiccuping at the pain he inflicted on her sensitive flesh, "I can stop at any time I want," he dared to raise her shirt even higher and disgustingly lick at her breast. She screamed in disgust and horror as he smiled calmly - raising his face to her own, "I just don't want to."

He seemed to enjoy the way she squealed and twisted in poor attempts to get away from him. His hands were everywhere, burning her skin even where e had stopped touching her long ago. Her terror was so palpable that he could sense it radiating from her skin.

"You will come to enjoy it," he rasped with arousal as he held himself just outside of her, watching the tears building in her face. He was torturing her and he knew it, he continuously let her feel him just outside of her. The terror on her face made him more curious to see just how terrified he could get her. Over and over he touched her there, she winced and sobbed. But he knew that the girl was going to scream sooner or later, he reached for his cravat and stuffed it in her mouth. The fight had gone out of her her limbs. She had worn herself out. "Scream all you'd like," he sneered suggestively before pushing himself into her.

Christine gasped at the sharp pain and cried out. Her neck tensed as he held himself inside her. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as she shrieked and clawed her hands. He had re-pinned her wrists to the floor. It didn't feel how she always imagined something like this would. She had always thought pleasure would course through her immediately... but this felt rough, and disgustingly sensitive. He was torturing her with his agonizingly slow moments letting her feel every inch of him.

His hips jerked back before he slowly pushed into her once again. Her breathing was coming in ragged. And the burning between her legs only seemed to intensify. Her heart felt as though it would pop out of her throat and despite her horror she found herself becoming numb. Her eyes focused in on the ceiling as she thought.

_I feel like... like I am nailed to a cross, _she thought darkly, acknowledging her inability to move her hand. She was going to coke on the material in her mouth, she was sure of it. Christine shut her watery eyes as he pushed into her slowly. Her tears had long ago blinded her vision and for a moment she resisted the urge to scream. Screaming would do nothing. If Erik walked in and found her like this she was certain to die than. And if Nadir walked in it would be just as bad.

"How does it feel?" he was huskily panted at her, taunting her fear, "you like it don't you?" The teasing cruelty made it hard to repress her sorrow, she couldn't help but sob then. And so he pumped in and out of her body, dominating her with his force and his experience in this. Christine lay silent beneath him. Was this something that was supposed to happen to her? Was she a victim of fate? Of circumstance? She wondered these things in tears and a fit of hard breaths.

Her body did not feel as if though it were her own.

What had happened this night to make things so wrong?

A choked sound ripped out of her. She was going to vomit. She was certain of it. Her hands went numb.

He stuttered her named and gasped. He pushed into her, again, again, again, not stopping. Her breathing was coming in hard shallow breaths. Something was building inside of her. _Dear God, dear God... _she sobbed underneath him and choked on her own breath. The feeling of his coarse hairs irritated the inside of her thighs and the scent of him was revolting. He smelled sickly sweet. When he lowered his head to her shoulder, angrily pressing his mouth to her neck she began to pray for death. This was not how this was suppose to happen.

_This is wrong... _

He choked out a moan into her neck and suddenly pulled out of her.

She felt a warmth spilling over her thighs. His forehead was dewy with sweat. His neck was flushed and twisted into something that looked pained. She looked down, numbly and stared at him as he quivered and dared to spill himself on her leg.

_I am... nothing... _her eyes filled with tears and shame as he fell away from her. The pulsating between her legs persisted and she closed her thighs, pushing her fists between them and shutting them tightly. Her eyes closed just as tightly as her legs and the urge to curl up took over her. _God, what have I done? What did I do? _

Silence filled the air for a moment. The sticky sensation between her legs remained and her heartbeat increased despite her efforts to breathe. She was going to have an attack of some sort – she knew it.

Monsieur de Chagny stared at Christine for a long moment. She was on her side, the color of her face was a hard beet red. Every muscle in her body was strained, and her wrists looked purple already.

He spoke her name. But it seemed that she had not heard him. Her eyes remained tightly closed...

"If you ever see my son again I will return," he warned her – catching his breath as he stood and buckled his trousers. Then he leaned over her body and pulled his cravat from her mouth, scampered away form him on her hands and knees – coming to a stop at a wall not too far away. He continued, "Ruella had it lucky tonight. She was going to have the honor of having me inside her body, again," he chuckled softly at that, remembering weeks ago when he had taken her, "I suppose I have a new favorite now, what do you make of that my little street rat?" He stepped forward, ignoring the shaking of her body and brushed her hair away from her face with his fingers. Her eyes popped open with fear.

Without thinking twice her fist lashed out. The crack of her fist against his nose broke the silence. He cried out in a rage and stumbled back. Christine in her shock, and hurt just remained on the floor, looking towards him as he clutched his face. Blood leaked out through his fingers.

"You will pay for that slut."

He stormed out of the house angrily. And Christine lay sat there silently for a long moment. She was throbbing and burning down between her legs. She needed to do something about the mess in the living room. Erik would return soon, and eventually Nadir as well.

Suddenly her body began to quake. Her legs drew themselves tightly up against her body and a shiver rocked her core. She needed to bathe. A sob moved through her as she came to a shaky stand, clutching the wall as she went. Her body was aching, and so was the side of her face. She needed to get this all clean, Erik couldn't know about this. No one could ever know about it.

**...**

* * *

**Don't hate me okay? I am trying my best to keep things realistic to how things were and are. Girls who lived on the streets were often the subject of abuse for rich men. Christine, despite our love for her in the context of this story, will not be an exception to the rule.**


	39. Explanations

**Howdy guys and girls! B.B. here! I just wanted to post a note in explanation of my last chapter since I got a few messages and I feel I might have left a few of you confused about why it is that I did what I did and then explain the Note I had left after the chapter as a few of my words may have been taken a way I did not intend for them to be.**

**My note said this: **

**Don't hate me okay? I am trying my best to keep things realistic to how things were and are. Girls who lived on the streets were often the subject of abuse for rich men. Christine, despite our love for her in the context of this story, will not be an exception to the rule.**

**When I said I am trying to keep things realistic to how things were I meant very simply the attitude of some men towards females they considered to be below them. Are we going to actually deny the fact that many women were abused by men of the upper class? I mean, really? Were slaves not raped by their masters? Were servant girls not abused by their employers? When I continued on to say 'Christine, despite our love for her in the context of this story, will not be an exception to the rule' I meant that she will not be a safe base for you guys. I did not write this story with hopes to make you all feel like 'oh okay she'll be fine because this is Christine and at the most she'll get beat up and then bounce back.' No. This isn't a fairy tale, this is MY story and as such I will write it exactly how I want it. It came with an explicit warning: __********Warning: This story is rated M. Expect Mature themes, no I will not change certain things to please the readers who do not enjoy gritty stories so please do not send me messages about this as I have received in the past. Thank you and enjoy. - Krystal**

**********I guess that some of you thought that the rape was too much, but those are your feelings on it and I can't do anything about that. But it doesn't mean that I am going to change this. **

**********Now about the story itself:**

**********I've written Monsieur de Chagny to be very abusive, Christine was not his sole victim, as hinted so was Ruella who you guys remember came down the stairs crying. So was Aleyenne although not in a sexual way. The point is that he is a character with his own story line and so are the others even if it's untold. Christine is not an exception to his story line, he sees someone worth abusing, so he does what he wants as abusers do. Our love for her does not mean his story stops. Every single character that I have put into this story has a story of their own, Ruella, Phillipe, Aleyenne, Nadir, every single one. Some have hints at some sort of connection. Expect terrible things to happen to them. That includes Christine. (Not an exception to the rule. That rule being chaos). **

**********I hope that you guys have gained some clarity about why I did these things, and do your best to not presume that it was just a fun little thing I threw in there for shits and giggles. When a character in a movie or a show gets raped do you really question why the writer chose to do that? Or do you accept that it is part of the overall message of the story that will somehow change the character and your understanding of her or him? I did this because it comes into play with many things. **

**********Again, hope that explains a few things :) Furthermore, I am going to edit the next chapter now, so expect it in a few :) Have a great day :) ! Any questions forward them my way. I don't mind hearing from you at all, despite what a few of you might think, I jsut don't hope that some of you actually expect that I will not respond with thoughts of my own. **


	40. Comfort

**Chapter XXXIX**

"Something is wrong with her," Nadir murmured quietly.

Erik watched Christine in silence.

Ever since Monsieur de Chagny's visit Christine had been oddly silent. She ate less and less everyday and she was losing weight again, weight she couldn't afford to lose. Her gaze was often far away and both Erik and Nadir would have to repeat themselves twice. When she did speak it was forced, as if she couldn't form her thoughts properly and was making them up as she spoke. Her sentences were devoid of any point. She did not even bother to argue with Erik anymore. When he spoke an opinion that he knew she would disagree with she only remained silent.

Now she was bathing upstairs. The only problem with it was that she spent hours in the bathwater, and when she came down her skin was raw.

"She is lying about that bruise," Erik said, "she says she got it falling, but Christine is not that clumsy."

"Are you..." Nadir's eyes widened, "are you saying that it had something to do with Monsieur de Chagny?"

"I did not say that, but it interests me that you would draw that conclusion. He has been known to hit women." His eyes narrowed, "but Christine would tell us if he struck her."

"That is true. She would not hide that. Has she explained to you the nature of her conversation with the man? I certainly hope that he did not reveal some damning information." Nadir's concerned eyes met Erik's.

"What sort of damning information would that be Daroga?"

Nadir smirked at the nickname, "perhaps something about Raoul de Chagny."

"Well the boy has not been here for a few days, I suppose that it had everything to do with him."

"But what could have happened between them both? I do not think that it could have had anything to do with the subject Christine breached just a few days ago with me."

Erik remained silent and in thought.

An hour later Christine's footsteps began. She came down the stairs dressed as she usually did. Her long wet hair spilled down over her shoulders and down her back. Her eyes were on Erik as she came down the stairs dressed in an oversized shirt and trousers.

"Good God Christine," Nadir breathed.

"What have you done?" Erik spit angrily as he stood. Her neck was raw red. He came towards her quickly and almost took her face in his hands but she flinched slightly. Erik frowned at the gesture but reached forward again, more slowly this time and tilted her face up to examine her skin, "are you trying to rip your flesh off? You must be more gentle. Nadir-

"Yes I will get something," Nadir moved past them both and up the stairs.

"Is it very red?" She asked softly. Erik's cool fingers tingled on her skin. He allowed himself the pleasure of touching her throat. It was hot to touch, and it felt rough.

"It is," finally he removed his hands from her skin. "Christine, what were you thinking?"

"Nothing," she moved away from him and sat down on her chair. Erik turned slowly and locked his fingers behind his back, watching her. It had been just yesterday that he had asked her to sing. To practice – and Christine had agreed. But what a disappointment it was. Her voice had not reached his expectations. It was flat and emotionless. And now she sat there, silent and monotone in a bruise on her face. Something was very wrong.

"Here," Nadir came jogging down the stairs and tossed Erik a strange look. He handed the small container of salve to him and then took a seat before Christine who was watching Erik carefully as he came towards her.

"Here," she extended her hand, "I'll do it."

"No, that's alright," he crouched before her and carefully opened the top. His long nimble fingers fascinated her as he scooped some of the yellow concoction into his hand and then tilted her face up.

Ever since that night, that fateful horrid night, Christine had been unable to think of much else. It did not matter if they were discussing food or books – her thoughts always turned to that night. Her lips would tremble with fear that he would return, and she could not be left alone. The first night after that one Nadir and Erik wanted to visit the opera house but Christine had shown such a fear that Erik stayed instead of Nadir.

_Erik would never hurt me, _she thought as his fingers rubbed her throat, Nadir watched with suspicion. _Erik is good. He is _truly_ good. _

"Christine, is there something you wish to discuss?" Nadir asked.

She shrugged silently as Erik pulled away and watched her expression.

_I know her too well, _he thought as she lied with a small smile. He had come accustomed to her expressions, and this was not one of them. Something was wrong, and he was going to find out what.

That night Christine and Erik sat together in front of the fireplace. Nadir had retired to his room.

"Everything is coming together nicely. It will be only a few more days before we can move into our home Christine," he told her softly, her expression lit up the slightest bit. "I have found the perfect beds, and everything is already inside. The only thing that must be done now is to move in. But before we do that I want to ensure that the traps are working as they are supposed to."

"Traps?" Her pretty lips mumbled the word out.

"Yes, traps. I do not want people to travel into our home." He waited for her to put up a fight.

"Yes, that is a fantastic idea." She agreed.

Her positivity towards it made Erik glad, but also suspicious.

"I am very grateful for everything that Nadir has done for us. We must get him a gift."

"I agree," Erik gave her a ghost smile. They remained in silence for a short while as Erik watched. Christine had changed his life in ways he had never even dreamed of. And if he was being honest with himself he knew very well that he would not live with himself if she ever left his side. Christine was more than his friend now. She was someone to make proud. She... _is everything. _He had not stopped thinking of her mouth or the fact that she had not pulled away, and despite his shock he could not bring himself to create distance between the two of them. The thought had never occurred to him, not too seriously anyway. He could not dream of being apart from her. Not anymore.

"Christine."

She turned to look at him. Erik's calm voice always soothed her out of her terrible memories. She could think clearer when he was around. Her lips turned up into a soft smile. He was beautiful in his own way. There was an undeniable darkness in him. She knew that he was capable of horrible things, and yet she had never felt so safe.

"Yes Erik?" She pulled closer to him then and dared to wrap her arm around his, pulling close to his side and resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen slightly, "is this alright?"

He nodded, swallowing the thick knot in his throat. "Yes." The fire before them crackled and spit warmth in their direction. She sighed and beckoned him to say whatever he needed to. "I wanted to ask you if everything is alright. You appear distraught and distracted. What was it that that vile man wanted of you?"

"Vile?"

"Yes, vile."

"I am not in disagreement, I just think the word doesn't do him justice. And I am sorry if I appear unhappy Erik. I am just... thinking."

"But is there anything wrong? What did he say to you?"

Christine's throat closed. _It is not what he said... it is what he did. _The words wouldn't spill forth. What would Erik think if she told him. _Erik wouldn't hurt me... _no he wouldn't. She didn't think so anyway. She imagined that Erik would harm that man in ways that she would rather not fantasize about.

"Erik-

"Christine!"

The sound came from the other side of the door. Instantly Erik tensed and let out a deep sound of frustration from the back of his throat.

"Is that-

"Christine it's me, Raoul. Open the door I must have words with you!"

Christine jumped up onto her feet and faced the door. Her body was quaking, and Erik noticed the fear clearly. He had seen that same fear before. He stood slowly and stood behind her as she trembled and Raoul continued to knock. "Christine," Erik's sweet voice was a whisper into her ear, "why don't you answer?"

"I c-can't," she admitted with a tremble. How could she face the son of the man who raped her? What if Monsieur de Chany had told Raoul but... but not as things really transpired? What if he made her out to have wanted it? What would she do then? And what if Raoul began to shout about it – what would Erik think then? "Erik I can't," her voice rose to a squeak. She turned to stare up at him, "I _can't_."

Taking her trembling hands into his own Erik observed her fear in silence. Something was wrong here, something was terribly wrong. He had never seen fear so plain in anyone else before. It disturbed him to see her shake and stutter, it was unlike anything he had ever seen. Fear embodied, and he could not understand why, "Alright Christine-

"I-I would but I c-cannot face him. Not tonight Erik, please-

"I would never force you to," he assured her with confusion. Her eyes darted back behind her towards the door and then to him. "I will answer it-

"Erik you don't want to be seen-

"Christine!" Raoul pounded on the door again.

"I will send him away. Do you want him to never return here Christine? Is that it?" Erik eyes widened, pleading with her to say yes. He would make sure that the boy never bothered her again.

_Is that what I want? Do I owe Raoul a farewell? _Her eyes watered as Erik's amber eyes intensified.

"Yes..." she answered, "I don't want him here ever again..."

Erik gave one sharp nod and resisted a malicious smile. Christine ran up the stairs quietly and rapidly as he strode towards the door. This was it. He would be seen by the fop, but he would be seen as he was. He was Erik, and the boy was the fool of his show.

Raoul continued to pound on the door and it was just as his hand was about to fall on the door that it was pulled open.

Before him stood a tall man. Gaunt and thin with striking black hair pulled back and away from his forehead. His flesh was pale and gleamed at him. His mouth was thin and serious, it was almost twisted into a grimace. His eyes were orange coals in his head. But it was the white mask that took Raoul aback the most. He had never seen anything so... strange.

"S-sir-

"I am not a Sir," the man assured him in a calm tone. His voice was rich, and his tone slow. "I am not like you."

Raoul blinked, confused. "Like me? Sir I do not understand-

"Your kind never do. I have just told you that I am not a man of high class and yet you've called me by the title 'Sir' again. Have I failed to make it clear that I am not?"

"Forgive me," Raoul murmured shyly. He had never seen this man before. He appeared to be young, but his voice and demeanor betrayed him. He appeared aged in a sense. But why was this man here at this hour? And why had Christine not come to the door? Where was the Persian? "I came to speak with Miss Daae, is she here?"

"She is."

"May I –

"No."

Raoul's eyes widened with shock. "Are you saying that you are not permitting me to see her or that she is otherwise occupied-

"Both. Christine is not in the mood for company and she would rather be without your company specifically," Erik leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms and then his ankles, "it would be best that you did not return at all. Your presence is a nuisance."

"How dare you?" Raoul asked with outrage.

"Very easily."

"Christine!" Raoul called once again but Erik stepped forward shutting the door behind him and forcing Raoul back. "Listen to me-

"No _you_ listen to me," Erik hissed violently, his eyes narrowing and horrifying Raoul de Chagny, "if you ever come here again I assure you that it will be the worst mistake of your life. Do not seek out _Miss _Daae ever again and do not think of her as _yours _again. She and you are over, whatever relationship you believe you had with her is finished. She wishes to have nothing else to do with you and it is for the better. Your people are a poison upon the earth. A plague. It would be best if you disappeared altogether but being that I cannot strangle you where you stand without drawing the attention of neighbors I will simply warn you. Do not return, if you do I will ensure that you no longer have the privilege of speaking her name. And I will find out what it is that you've done to her."

"I-I did nothing to her-

"Shut your mouth," Erik warned him in a whisper. His hands itched to choke the life from the boy. How he hated him! How he wanted to kill him. His blood-lust was building the longer he stood in his presence. What had Christine seen in him? "Leave now. Do not return. And heed my words, if you seek her out again a curse will fall upon your head."

Raoul stared up at the skeletal man in terror. The way his eyes flashed at him left him breathless and shaking. He needed to go – this man … this demented man would kill him. He was certain of it.

"Get out of my sight."

Raoul nodded and swallowed the knot at his throat, looking up at Christine's home before quickly making his escape.

Erik watched the blonde rush down the street. He took a deep breath and resisted a laugh. _Coward._

When he returned to go back inside he was not surprised to find Christine had made her way down the stairs just in time to meet him. There were tears in her eyes, and try as he might he could not stay away from her when she looked so frail. But it was not he who went to her now, she ran forward to him and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her small arms around his narrow waist.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shirt. His arms went around her. His fingers were in her hair and his cheek on the top of her head, gently stroking and soothing her sadness away. "Thank you..."

"You are welcome Christine." He sighed and shut his eyes. _Could this be love? _He asked himself with confusion. It made him miserable not to know... "I would do whatever you asked of me." Carefully he turned her face up to him. Instantly taking note of the bruise on her face. "Christine... how did you get that?"

"I fell off the stairs Erik, I swear." He nodded, skeptical but knowing that it was not completely out of the question. "What did Raoul want?"

"He wanted an audience with you. I warned him that he is never to return. I made it clear to him that no one wants him here, and that includes you."

Her eyes dimmed at that and she lowered her head, "Raoul must be so hurt."

"It does not matter if he is hurt," Erik stated a bit icily. "He is disrespectful, he does not understand you like I do."

"Yes..." she murmured as if in a daze... "you are right."

Erik quietly led Christine up the stairs after that. They both went into the bedroom and he bid her goodnight.

"No," she grabbed at his hand, shaking her head and pulling him back into the room. He was going to sleep on the couch tonight and she on the bed, but she did not wish to be left alone, "you cannot go. Stay. We can share the bed."  
"It would be improper-

"I do not care," there was an edge in her voice, "please stay."

Nodding Erik watched her as she climbed in. Her big blue orbs stayed pinned on him as she did so. It was as if she was expecting him to make an escape. But when he approached the bed he made it clear that he would indeed stay with her.

_Something is wrong, _he thought quietly again as he climbed in beside her. Christine lay on her back and then tossed the covers over herself. Erik lay on the bed sheet awkwardly beside her and stared at the ceiling. Sleep would engulf them both when the time came.

Minutes passed and Christine was beginning to drift. Her fear of sleeping alone was lessened by Erik's presence. He felt when she fell asleep, her lips had parted and he could hear her small breaths escaping them.

Sometime later when Erik was still not asleep Christine rolled over and into his side. He stiffened at first, and lay very quiet. He made an attempt to roll her flat onto her back with his hands on her shoulders but she only pulled closer to him. In the darkness he could see her perfectly. It was then that he realized that long eyelashes were pressed together, her eyes were partly open.

"You're awake," he murmured quietly.

"I had a bad dream." With that she curled into his side further. "He keeps haunting my dreams Erik..."

"Whom?" He was still stone at her side. She was so warm, and small.

"_He _does. Raoul's father... Oh God," her voice trembled again. "I don't want to ever see him again."

"Why is that Christine?" He turned his head to look down at her. "What happened?"

Her eyes widened up at him, trying to see him better in the dark. She could not make out his face. Only the outline of his mask.

She looked beautiful to him. She was trembling, and so near... so close. How could he control the need to taste her mouth?

Unable to resist himself his hand found her jaw and he pulled her up for a kiss. Her gasp of shock rocked through him as her body lengthened and he pressed himself against her. She tasted so sweetly. He wanted more of her, as always, but he could not allow room for any lack of self control. She was the wild one out of the two of them.

At first she was tense in his arm, trembling and unmoving but slowly, like the slow churning of a machine she began to respond. Soft sounds escaped her lips against his mouth. And she dared to open her lips slightly inviting him in, reeling him in like a temptress. He could feel her hands raking along his skull, grabbing his hair. Yes, that's exactly what she was, a siren. Carefully his hands trailed along the curve of her body to her lower back, puling her against him. How he wanted her! _I am burning for her. _

And Christine... oh Christine was dying without him. She allowed him to press her close only because he was safe. He was home. Erik was good in a world full of evil. Erik was her savior in a world full of demons. And she wanted him because it was right where other things were wrong.

"What happened...?" he murmured against her lips, kissing her again. No longer afraid of what reaction he might get from her. The trust he placed in her was silent like many things between them.

She spoke around his lips, coming up for air as he caressed her jaw with his mouth. "I can't tell you Erik..." her soft tone made him want to kiss her again, and so he did.

"Christine," he rasped her name out so softly "Christine you can tell me anything at all." His skin tingled at her fingers. It was as she turned her face and dared to kiss his mouth again that the next words slipped out of him:

"I love you."

They both stiffened at the confession. Her eyes widened and his own did too. She made an attempt to pull back, to see his face, but he pulled her in more tightly, her bones hurt from the pressure but she allowed it. His jaw clenched with frustration at his words. He loved her and he had dared to say it. The words had slipped out of their own accord. He could not bare to see her face. The shame to be loved by one like him. It would be the end of him.

Her heart burst. She smiled despite herself and blushed. She knew she returned the feelings, and she had to assure him of that quickly before her silence was misinterpreted. How could she not adore him and love him? He was different from everything. Erik was an angel of his own creation. "I love you too, Erik." Her voice was small, and she felt his breathing hitch slightly.

He lifted his face back and away from her, looking at her with shock. An overwhelming surge of passion rushed through him an he locked his lips onto hers again. His kisses became feverish and almost painful. He rolled onto her and unsure of what he was doing began to grasp at her hair, pulling her closer to him. Hurting her.

He heard very little after her confirmation of his feelings being returned. His heart was overflowing with emotion. He wanted to cry but he settled for a small smile. How could it have been this way? Why did he deserve this? He had been locked in a cage for most of his life – not serving a God he did not believe in or helping with charity work. He had been locked and yet he was being rewarded with the best gift of all, something completely undeserved.

"Stop, Erik," she whispered quietly, nervous as his breathing became heavy against her mouth, "_please_."

_Stop Erik, _his body stiffened above her and he pulled up and away from her. Below him in the dark Christine looked like a frightened cat. Her eyes were all large, seeking his face out in the blackness. Her hands were trembling on his chest and her pretty lips were reddened.

"Forgive me Christine," he breathed out with fear as he carefully made a move to retreat from her, "I did not-

She pulled him back to her in a soft embrace, burying her face into his neck and shutting her eyes, breathing in his particularly faint scent, "It's alright my love... it's just that..." She struggled for the words. "I am not whole Erik. I am not … pure," she wept softly, pulling him closer as if possible.

Her words confused him. What was she saying? She was the purest thing he had ever known. "What are you saying Christine?" He replied gently, his voice slightly impassioned still.

She sat up then and pulled her knees up into herself, raking a hand through her hair,"I... Erik-

"What is it?" His tone took a cold edge. "Is it the de Chagny boy? Have you professed love to him as well?" _Has she given herself to him? _The thought sickened him and made his voice tight, "have you both copulated?"

A laugh burst out of her despite her somber emotions, _copulated. _Only Erik could make something sound so strangely emotionless.

"This is not funny," he spoke bitterly, glaring at her in the dark.

"No," she shook her head quietly... becoming serious once again, "No, it's not... just forget it... it doesn't matter."

"Are you certain?"

"I am certain," she breathed, shutting her eyes, "goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Erik did not sleep at all that night. Come tomorrow he would know exactly what transpired between Christine and Raoul de Chagny's father.


	41. The Facts

**Chapter XL**

When the morning came Christine was alone in the bedroom. The events of the previous night came rushing back to her. She found herself touching her lips and frowning only slightly before the thoughts of Monsieur de Chagny began to cloud her head again. Her skull still hurt from the bashing it had taken. Her face was still throbbing from the bruise. Last night Erik had scared her, his passion have almost smothered her, and now the guilt was coming in waves. Is that what she really wanted? The entire situation felt surreal, did she want to confess love to him? It did not matter now, she had done it.

_Erik will persist on finding out why I am behaving so oddly, _she thought to herself as she headed for the washroom. Erik suspected that she was lying. He read her far too easily. And his profession of love made her uneasy. Would it make him more prone to violence should he tell her? Would he listen to her at all? She suddenly felt unclean again.

When she stepped into the bathtub after having filled it with water she sank even deeper into her thoughts. She could not imagine that Raoul would forgive her for what she did, and she also did not feel like she could forgive herself. _I should have told him that I wanted nothing else to do with him myself. It was wrong of me to send Erik out that way. He likes to remain hidden and in my cowardice I forced him out the door. _She bowed her head and began to scrub at her skin. What would her father say to her now? He would probably hold her, and console her. Wipe her tears away. Christine hated crying, it made her feel weak. But every time she thought back to what had happened... her violation, she teared.

And what would her mother say if she were alive?

"Damn!" Christine cursed as she looked down at her arm. She had reddened it again and broke skin. A little bit of blood bubbled to the surface. Angrily Christine splashed water on her skin and stepped out of the bath. Her legs were red from her vicious scrubbing.

Downstairs Nadir and Erik sat and ate their breakfast quietly. It was difficult for Erik to eat around his mask but he did so anyway.

Christine came down the stairs eventually sporting dark trousers and a light blue surrey-smock.

"Hello Erik," she blushed slightly at him and waved at Nadir, avoiding eye contact. Erik stood at her presence and made a move to reach for her before she swiveled out of his way. Erik's confusion was plain as she took a seat.

For the rest of the day they all spoke quietly. Nadir did his best to make Christine laugh and felt that she truly was laughing, but Erik could hear the stressed undertones. He said very little to her, confused and somewhat hurt by her sudden rejection.

_Has she come to her senses since last night? _He wondered quietly as he watched her pretty blue eyes wander the room as if she was looking for something.

Sometime in the afternoon when Christine escaped to the bedroom there was a knock on the front door. Nadir waited for Erik to hide in the kitchen before he opened it.

Two men stood there, men from the authorities to be exact. Their mustaches were thick and white. Two aged men with blue jackets and white pants.

"Is this the home of Christine Daae?"

Nadir frowned as he eyeballed them. In his hand the one to the left with the dark eyes held a piece of paper, "yes this is."

"We were informed by Monsieur Albert de Chagny that he visited her some days ago, one week ago to be exact. He informed us that Christine Daae seemed to be drunk or under the influence of something as he was speaking with her and she attacked him-

"Excuse me?" Nadir blurted with shock. In the kitchen Erik's eyes narrowed with confusion and equal shock. "Christine would never –

"He has shown us the bruises to prove it."

Nadir could hardly speak as he was handed papers. "What is this?"

"Mr. de Chagny has refused to press charges but he has agreed to allow certain terms to be met. If these terms are not met then he will proceed with a lawsuit."

"This is ridiculous!" Nadir exclaimed as he eyeballed the sealed envelope.

"Good day Sir."

Nadir shut the door in their faces and Erik came out from the kitchen.

"What was that?" He asked with confusion as Nadir raked a hand through his hair, "what do they mean 'terms'?"

"Christine!" Nadir called her and she was instantly at the top step. Her eyes looked nervous as she looked at Nadir. She had heard the exchange. Erik was staring at her with a look of confusion where Nadir looked angry. His dark eyebrows were twisted into the middle of his face and his dark skin looked flushed. "Did you attack Monsieur de Chagny?" Her heart dropped at the mention of his name. "I have in my hand a letter of terms that must be met or else you are going to jail for hurting him."

"I-I-

"Christine what happened?" Erik asked as she came down the stairs. "Did you hit that man?"

"I-I-

"Do you understand who he is?" Nadir's eyes were wide with panic. "Christine he has the authorities wrapped around his fat fingers. Do you understand that if he wants to throw you into a jail cell he will be able to do that!"

"He would never," Erik hissed at Nadir angrily. _I would never allow such a thing. That man will die first. _

"What happened when he came here Christine?" Nadir's voice softened, "tell me."

Her eyes darted back and forth between he and Erik. They both wore the same expression. It was of trepidation. They knew that she had in fact hit the man.

"I—I cannot tell you-

"Give me the letter!" Erik hissed and grabbed at it. Nadir made a move to get away but it was already in Erik's grasp. Christine's stomach plunged as he ripped the envelope open. Christine lunged at him and began to reach for it. Erik moved away from her easily and moved around the furniture. His amber eyes were scanning the sheet of people.

"Erik no! Give it to me! You have no right!"

"Erik give her the letter," Nadir sank onto the nearest seat and hung his head.

"Erik stop it!" She cried it. He would know what happened to her. And then what would she do with herself? She couldn't stand the sight of the pity that would grace his face so awfully. She'd rather vanish than stand in his presence while he looked at her like that. Her heart was going to choke her if he did not give her that letter. She strained her hand around him and suddenly he had caught her around the arm.

Fury unlike anything she had ever seen before burned in his gaze. It was fervent, and it was an undying sort of hatred. Nadir was saying something, but neither of them were listening. Erik was saying something, but she couldn't hear past the pounding in her ears. Things were falling apart all around her by an act that she had not provoked.

"Answer me," Erik whispered in a deadly tone, gripping her by the tops of her arms and watching her face for the truth. But her silence was enough. It was true.

"Erik?" His name slipped past her lips and made his stomach tight. "Erik-

"Is it true?" His voice deepened at the statement, "why did you not say anything?" The words on the letter seared through his mind. "Did you sleep with-

"I never slept with him!" She screamed violently, shoving him away and shaking. "I would never sleep with that man! I did not have a choice in the matter he came in here and after insulting me he proceeded to... to..."

Erik's eyes widened, "what?" Her expression became confused then, "Christine what are you saying? Did that man violate you?" His tongue was turning to led. Nadir's eyes were widening as Christine stood there, it was as if she were turned to stone. "Answer me."

"I... what does the letter say?"

"It says that after you propositioned Raoul de Chagny to sleep with you he refused to see you again. Then his father came here and you attacked him."

At this her eyes widened. _Of course he would not write a letter telling the truth, he would not want to run the risk of eyes other than his own and mine seeing the truth of what happened. And I've just.._

"God damn it!" Erik spit and threw the letter down. Christine jumped in shock and stared at him as he paced, "he touched you didn't he?"

Her knees gave out beneath her. On her hands and knees Christine did her best to understand what had just happened. Revealing the truth that way had never been her intention. In fact she had never planned to reveal the truth. But now it was out. And she did not know what to expect. Nadir's arms were around her, helping her to her feet as she trembled.

"Christine... you … why didn't you tell us?" Nadir's voice was cracking as he sat her down near the fire. Erik was pacing, muttering things under his breath and watching her for fear that she might faint. Her eyes were on Nadir's chest without really seeing. "This is grave Christine. This is something we should have known. I am so sorry that-

"It's not your fault. It is mine," she assured him gently. At this Erik reeled.

"Your fault?" He spluttered, shocked, "How is it your fault?"

She rubbed the back of her neck and hollowed her cheeks, ducking her head and shutting her eyes. She needed to keep it together. "I just.. I sent you away if I had not sent him away-

"Stop it Christine you'll drive me mad." He walked towards her and moved Nadir out of the way with the quickness of his step. Her eyes were not on Erik. She could not stand to look at him.

"I couldn't tell you Erik," her voice was cracking, "how could I tell you that a man forced my legs apart and-and—" again she could not speak. The shortness of breath was making it hard to even think. Just saying it out loud made her hurt all over again. "How was I supposed to tell you," the tears spilled over and her hands went over her face, "it brings me shame and you think I wish to retell it all? What was I supposed to say?" she wept it over and over, looking up at him and grasping his hands in her own, "How would you have told me!"

"Christine -

"Tell me!" She stood and shoved him away, "I was raped on this floor and beaten. I almost choked on my own tears and you think I owed it to you to tell you that someone took the last piece of me? The only thing that is truly _mine. _From where would I draw the strength to confess that a man forced himself into my body over and over and spilled himself on my thigh like I was a napkin! How was I to tell you that the reason I rub my skin raw is that I can still feel his hands on my Erik? Please tell me how!"

"Christine-

"Don't touch me!" She screamed viciously, shoving him away from her before he could take the second step to close the distance. He stood silent by the fire as she trembled.

The imagery that accompanied her words made him quake. The pig had hurt her. That _thing_ had used her and discarded her like she was trash. He could not look at her like this, his eyes began to burn, and so he turned his gaze to the fire.

"And now you turn your face from me in shame?"

"No," his head snapped in her direction, "never in shame. Never."

"We must take you to a doctor," Nadir stepped forward, "you could have injuries that I –

"Don't touch me," her breath went out of her. She did not want to be touched or consoled. Now right now. "Please..."

"Come with me," Erik strode past her and went up the stairs, not looking back to ensure that she did as he bid. Christine looked towards him with reluctance. _Erik would never, ever hurt me, _she reminded herself and finally followed him up the stairs.

**…**

Erik was pacing by the time that she got to the bedroom. The air felt thick with tension as she shut the door behind herself. What would he say? What _could _he say? But more importantly what would be her response to his words. She hoped that there would be no accusations, she could not bare it if that was the case. Not from him.

His pacing stopped and he looked to her. She was standing with her back against the door and her eyes on him.

"Why did you not tell me?" The calm in his voice made her flinch. Deadly and quiet, that's what he was at that very moment. "Did you think that I'd never find out? Have I not gained your trust enough Christine? I thought that we were honest with one another. You explicitly lied to me. You said you fell. That is not the truth and do not act clever. You hid this from me."

"It is not for you to know-

"You didn't say anything about it to me. You hid it, and you hid it well."

"I don't _want _to talk about it Erik!" She cried out, begging for understanding from him, his eyes flashed dangerously, "I don't want to be touched, or consoled I don't want anything but to be left alone! I don't want you, or Nadir, or Raoul, or anyone I just want my father!" She sobbed, she sniffled and wiped at her nose, "I just w-want to be alone. It wasn't your secret! It was mine! And you," she sobbed louder now, "and you stole my secret. You took my choice - I-I would have been able to handle it on my own but you took the note and you forced my confusion."

"Stop it-

"Don't touch me, please," she trembled and moved to the side, trying to create more distance between them, "it wasn't for you to know."

He stepped forward – silencing her. "Of course it is for me to know. I am your friend am I not? I am here to protect you-

"You do not protect me._ I_ protect myself."

"You are right," he nodded, clenching his jaw, "I do not deserve the right to protect you seeing as I so foolishly left the home when I should have stayed."

"It's not your fault," she sighed softly, trying to speak smoothly and failing, the burning in her eyes had not stopped. "Please do not blame yourself."

"But you will blame yourself, will you not?" The anger was building again. The sight of that bruise covering the left side of her face was eating at his stomach. "I cannot let this pass Christine. He must pay for what he has done."

"No," the shake of her head annoyed him, "please-

"No?" He gripped her around the waist, pulling her to him before she could remove herself, "I refuse to allow him to get away with this. He has dared to put his hands on you! You are _not _HIS! You are your own! No one touches you that way! " She yelped at the rising of his voice and disengaged herself as he angrily continued. His eyes stretched with anger, "he touched you. He harmed you! And you think I will just sit back and allow you to—no-no- you have confused me with someone else Christine. He will pay for this!" He thundered. Erik began to march past her but she grabbed onto the hem of his shirt sleeve. His amber eyes flashed down to her hand and then up at her eyes.

"Please ..." the sadness there killed whatever sanity was left in him, "don't do anything Erik."

Wordless he removed her hand and left the room.

* * *

**:( Christine baby.. Well I hope you all enjoyed the chapter :) This is probably my favorite one just because we get so many extreme emotions under one roof, we've got Nadir's confusion and anger, Erik's anger and his hurt, Christine is feeling all these emotions more intensely than any of them, and of course only mayhem can come out of this. So, let's see where the next chapter takes us shall we? Now a behind the scenes word from the one and only, Young E-zzy**

* * *

**"And... Action!" **

**Erik sits on a chair, staring at the camera seriously, his long fingers are drumming on his chair, "Do I have to do this?" **

**B.B. sighs from her seat behind the camera, "Yes Erik Goddamnit just do it already!" **

**"Fine."**

**"Okay... ACTION!" **

**He looks at the camera intensely. "I would like to first start off by saying thank you to all of you who have wasted hours of your life fantasizing about me and reading this story. It means a great deal as it means that I am not waiting around for B.B. to come up with more to write while waiting around in a grey room. As you can all imagine being locked in a box is something I do not like," he stands up and walks to the right of the stage for no reason at all, behind the camera B.B. gives him the thumbs up, "now it has come to my attention that one of you who shall remain nameless mainly because of the ANONYMOUS factor has misunderstood the explanation B.B. gave, so let me explain." **

**"Cue the music!" B.B. cries excitedly from behind the camera. In Da Club starts playing and Erik starts speaking again, slowly, methodically enunciating, and glaring at the small girl behind the Camera.**

**"When she had said dat she didn't throw it in there for shits and giggles you seemed to have missed the DIDN'T part. Now I understand that it may have been a mistake but befo' you start sending messages, ask ya' self. Could dat have been what she meant to say? At all?" Back up dancers surround Erik. "You also talkin' 'bout the chapter lackin' a warnin'. Listen here, B.B. put up a bunch of warnings even befo' dat chapter. And at the beginning of the chapter. If you missin' things because you don't read B.B.'s notes to you dat's on you. Ya' heard?" He tosses a glare at B.B. who is clapping behind the camera, beckoning him to continue, continuing on he glares at one of the back up dancers who backs it up a little too hard, another is twerking, Erik doesn't know how much more of this he can take. ****_She isn't Beyonce, she cannot twerk, _****he thinks to himself, ****_she's more like a Miley Cyrus, _****"Now she understands that Rape victims don't really react to things the way Christine did, but you also messed up homie, 'cause not all rape victims react the same way. Some victims actually become hyper sexual to feel that they are in control of their own bodies. Got it dog? It's kinda' amazin' that you think you understand all rape victims. Finally, keep in mind that victims of rape in the past did not react to it the way we do now. Women who were raped in the past did not react to it the way many victims do now, furthermore, do ya' think there aren't women who are raped ****_now_**** who pretend to go on as if nothing is wrong and never tell? What makes ya' think Christine isn't one of those women who does her best to suppress it? And in case you haven't noticed, Christine HASN'T moved on from it dog, she's been slowly fallin' apart. Even if just slightly. But anyway, das all." **

**"CUT." B.B. stands up and rushes to the stage where Erik seems to have been turned into stone as the Miley Cyrus twerker keeps trying to back it up. "Move moron!" B.B. slaps her away and stands in front of Erik. He is angry, "that was fucking great!"**

**"You have embarrassed me."**

**"I don't care, that was funny. Okay, now I'm going to need you to get Christine to come out of the room, I know that she didn't want to be one of the dancers but I really do need to talk to her about the next chapter." **

**Erik sighs heavily, "fine. But if you ever make me do that again, I will kill you." **

**"Honey child please, it's not up to me what people think. And if you kill me, you're gone. Remember that!" **

**"Damn you," he hisses and storms off before returning promptly and staring down one of the dancers, "and you ain't Beyonce so you can stop it now." The girl breaks down into sobs and B.B. dougie's as she waits for Christine.**


	42. The End of Fall

**Chapter XL Part II **

Erik waited until nightfall. Christine had been sobbing in her room all day. Nadir comforted her as best as he could and eventually felt that she was going to do something foolish if he did not induce sleep. He made a bit of tea and mix a bit of some strange oils to help her fall asleep faster. When he came downstairs Erik was already preparing to head out the door.

"Where are you going?" Nadir asked him quietly. Knowing very well what the answer was.

"You know where I am going."

"I do," he nodded and came down the last few steps. He noticed that Erik was wearing the thick cloak he had found in the Opera House. "If you want to find his room you must be silent. It is on one of the upper floors. I am certain you will hear the sound of him snoring."

Erik nodded silently.

"What do you plan to do?" Nadir's dark eyes widened innocently, "will you scare him or something like that?"

"Something like that," Erik murmured. "I will return before the morning. Feel free to lock the door. I will get inside anyway.

"Comforting," Nadir murmured darkly and shut the door as Erik stepped out.

The whole way there Erik thought about Christine. _I have failed to protect her. And in doing so I have allowed serious harm to come to her. I should not have listened to her. Of course that man would be violent with her. Why did I expect anything else? Those creatures do not see women like Christine as people, they see them as objects for their own pleasure. Rats. _

All day since their confrontation Christine cried. She had not left her room to eat. She only wailed and blubbered things he could not understand. Nadir had spent most of the day trying to relax her but to no avail. The sound of her cries tortured Erik. He had not wished to scare her. In fact he was controlled considering what he really wanted to do. But he would not shake her, or harm her. Not after what she had gone through. He knew better than that. He did not wish to shun her anymore than he might have already.

As he approached the de Chagny mansion his senses became sharper. This would be easy. There were no guards and only a gate. Easily he climbed up onto it and fell onto the floor in a crouch. He quickly walked through the courtyards and observed.

The architecture was indeed beautiful and lavish. He had expected nothing less, but he was not here to admire their home.

He picked the lock on one of the doors and slipped into the home with ease. The richness of the home seemed to make him nauseous. He despised all the useless decorations that littered the place. He saw paintings and flowers and useless candles everywhere. The only admirable part of the home was the foundation of it. But otherwise he would not have lived here even if it was offered to him without charge.

Erik roamed the home for a bit, looking for the room where he might find Monsieur de Chagny. At one point he heard what sounded like a soft whispering and figured that it was the lady of the home. She appeared to be in prayer. But he could not waste time. He needed to do this quickly and not risk being caught, or worse, Christine waking and noticing his absence. She was a smart girl, she would know that something was wrong.

Finally he came upon the room. To his great luck it was separated from the other rooms and he could even hear the damn man snoring from his bed.

Erik opened the door and slithered into the darkness. He shut the door carefully and turned. There he lay. Sleeping and motionless, not at all haunted by the dreams Christine would suffer.

Sleeping in the moonlight he could see the disgusting man. His white mustache caught the very faint glow of the moon. His large belly rose and fell with his breaths, and his fingers twitched as he dreamed.

_You raped her... _Erik thought angrily as he moved forward. Carefully he stood over the man's sleeping figure and watched his expression. It was peaceful, and yet there was something pompous in it. _Does he dream of Christine? _He wondered with anger as he watched. _Is he thinking of her her once more? _The thought made him pull the knife from the inner pocket of his stolen cloak.

He carefully placed the blade at the man's groin, and pressed enough to wake the man from his slumber.

Albert de Chagny gasped awake at the feeling of something touching him. It was as his eyes gained clarity that he was suddenly aware of two amber orbs above his head. Two eyes...

"Jesus-

A cool hand came down upon his lips with a sharp smack. "Jesus is not here to protect you, _Sir." _He dug the blade a little more firmly against Albert de Chagny's groin, the man gasped at the feeling, "you will have to settle for me. I want you to understand something, this is not a random act of violence—ah-ah-ah," Erik shook his head as the man began to struggle and made an attempt to roll away, "none of that, if you struggle I will cut your bollocks off and stuff them in your mouth. You'll choke on them and then I'll stab you in the chest."

Albert's eyes began to water with fear, his body trembled and quaked at the strange man above him. He had black hair, and he seemed to also be wearing a mask of some sort.

"I am here on behalf of Christine... yes you recognize her don't you. Your eyes flickered with recognition. Do not pretend that you are unaware of who she is. You forced yourself inside of her and marred her face with your filthy hands." The words were slithered out. Albert's heart was popping with fear as the blade began to dig into the material covering him. He whimpered and the man above him released a cackle. "Does it hurt?"

"Pleaphh!" he plead from underneath the thin hand. He did not dare to move to quickly lest the blade slip.

"Please? Please!" Erik hissed and grabbed onto the man's bruised nose. Christine had broken it no doubt. Pride swelled in his chest as he cranked his nose left and right. Albert flailed and grabbed at Eriks cloak as Erik slammed hims hand down onto the mans mouth as well. Now the knife was dangerously close to his face. Before he could get a firm grip on Erik's cloak the masked man smashed his fist down upon his nose in a hammering fashion, twice.

"God!" The man wept as he clutched his nose. The blood was spilling forth again, and his tears were falling freely. "Please leave me!" His voice was nasally now. Erik laughed again, a terrible high sound. "Please!"

"You harmed her and you want mercy? Don't you deserve this?" Erik grabbed the man and pulled him off the bed. He hoped no one would hear this. It was a large home, he was certain he was safe. Albert collapsed onto the ground in a heap and Erik violently brought his foot into his chest, laying him flat on his back. "You hurt her and you beg me for mercy? I am the angel of death!" Erik spit at him, lowering his face over his, overwhelmed with his disgust he hissed words at the man, "do you think that I would let you get away with what you've done. Do you deserve mercy-

"I have children-

"Christine is younger than your foolish sons you bastard." Erik reached for the blade on the bed and pressed it against the man's groin again. "She saved me you know. From where I was. And I am eternally grateful for that. I was sold into a carnival for freaks like myself. They were not all as deformed as I but they are all freaks in their own way. Soiled, corrupt men like yourself. Would you like to see why it is a miracle that she saved me?"

"No, no," Albert was not a stupid man. It has something to do with that strange mask that the demonic man wore. It had everything to do with it. Why else would he cover only half of his face. "I will not harm her again, I will not visit her or-or-

"If only that were enough," Erik lamented with a sickening hiss. "You do not deserve to breathe anymore. But before you go there is something I must show you."

"Go?" Albert whimpered quietly, "where do you want me to go? I will go wherever you wish... p-please do not kill me."

Erik slapped him once and covered his mouth to muffle whatever other pleading sounds he was wanted to make. The man screamed beneath his palm and Erik ripped his mask off in one flourishing movement.

M. de Chagny released a high wail of disgust and fear at what lay above him. A skeletons face. With large amber eyes that widened and narrowed. There was no nostril, and the cheeks were so hollow! He shut his eyes trying to get away from the sight but Erik's grip tightened and the blade pressed into Albert's vulnerable groin. "It's terrible isn't it? Look at me or I will slice your eyelids right off your face."

He looked. He stared at the terrible sight before him and wept. He would die, he could see it now. A man with such a horrible face would not risk exposure unless he was certain it would be without consequence. It was so terrible that he found himself wishing for death even as he plead for life.

"You've realized I am the face of death haven't you..." Erik smiled grimly. "It is too bad that you live with your children. I would have enjoyed testing a few of my knives on you. But I must go. Christine will not sleep well tonight. And I cannot risk being seen by one of your cretin sons."

"I can give you money!" The man choked around Erik's tight hand, "I can give you money! I can pay for her-

Erik's blade sliced through the cotton material at the mans groin, efficiently cutting through the thin skin it covered before it was buried in the man's chest.

His eyes widened and rolled. Blood leaked between his thighs and Erik shook in his rage. "How _dare_ you ever presume to offer me money for the pain you have put her through." Albert gargled blood, "you filthy beast. You disgusting monster," he dug the blade deeper into his chest, using his body weight and watching his eyes as the life started to go out of him. "You will never hurt her again. Christine will be as she was before you or your sons ever stepped into her life. We will be happy!" Alert gave a strangled gasp as his lungs began to fail him.

Erik rose and stepped away from the man as he bled out. His own blood was rushing through his head. Erik could hear his own pulse in his ear. It was such a rush, unlike anything he had ever known. When he lifted his hands to sooth his hair back he realized that they were trembling.

_Christine would hate me, _he realized as the blood stretched towards his feet. He moved back away from it. _Christine will hate me if she knows what I've done, won't she? _

Without another thought Erik opened up the window behind him and shut it. Without another thought he began to make his way back to his angel. His hands trembled all the way to her.

**…**

When Erik entered the house everything was silent. He heard nothing and imagined that Nadir was already asleep. He hoped, for her sake, that Christine had fallen asleep too and had not woken up. She needed rest. And he needed silence. The events haunted him in a way that he did not expect. He did not want to feel guilty, and while guilt was not what ate at him now it was still a feeling of repulsion. The sight of the man gargling blood, and the sound of his last breathe wheezing out of him terrorized Erik as he stalked up the stairs.

This was different then when he had killed Javert. Javert had been personally cruel to him. _Was it my right to take his life for Christine, is this what she would have wanted? _It ate at him only because he did not know what Christine would say if she knew. He could only imagine the variety's of reactions that she might have.

He felt as though he had unintentionally lost a part of him. But he was certain that this would wear off soon enough. _It is the surprise of it, that is all._

As he entered her room he was pleased to see her resting on her side. Her pretty eyes were shut and hopefully she was having pleasant dreams. He threw down his cloak and strode forward, and suddenly all the energy went out of him. Erik collapsed beside the bed.

The motion woke Christine from her slumber. She could make out Eriks head resting on the mattress.

"Erik...?"

"Christine?" He lifted his face tiredly, "forgive me, I did not wish to wake you."

"Well, it's too late for that, come on the bed Erik..."

Silently he moved up onto it. She shimmied away to give him room and when he lay out across the bed she stared at him for a long while.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Her soft voice sounded somehow resolved, not cracking or weak. "Are you angry that I wasn't able to fight him off?"

"I am only angry that I was not here to kill him when he attacked you. There is no fault with you Christine... you did nothing wrong."

Sighing she nodded and bit the inside of her cheek nervously. "Erik, were you downstairs this entire time?"

Lying he nodded, hoping that she might not see him in the dark. But the reason Christine asked was that she heard him slinging his cape down... _perhaps he stepped outside for some fresh air. _

"I want to leave this place Erik. I know that the lair isn't finished but I can't take another night here. Memories plague me."

He turned to face her. He could see the seriousness in her eyes, and also the nervousness should his answer be no. But how could he do that to her after all that they had witnessed now?

"When do you want to leave Christine?"

"Tomorrow," she said decidedly, "tomorrow night."

"Then tomorrow night it is."

Erik hoped that that would be their happily ever after. _But monsters do not have happily ever afters, _he thought silently as Christine began to drift again. A hard sigh moved through him. Only time would tell. With that in mind he stood and left the bedroom. He needed to be alone.

* * *

**Woo! Finally that good for nothing M. de Chagny is dead! And by Erik's hand :o Of course I did not want to make out Erik look like a pansy but I also didn't want to make him look like he was a ruthless killing machine. So clearly the whole killing thing is taking its own emotional toll on him. We just don't know what that is. **

**But maybe we'll find out!? **

**Okay gang, well the next chapter is going to skip ahead to winter so you know what that means. We're about to get some serious Phantom of The Opera things! WELL. LET'S GET TO IT SHALL WE!**


	43. Phantom of The Opera

**Chapter XLIII**

The months that followed them moving into the lair were hectic. Christine was always worried about how they would eat, despite the fact that they had food already. After that phase faded she began to grow upset with Erik whenever he failed to announce himself as he came into the lair. More often then not he was silently in the room with her without her knowing, and when she would hear him she'd scream and panic until realizing it was only Erik. A part of her found it humorous, but a larger side of her found it absolutely terrifying.

The lair was beautiful, it was exactly what she could have ever wanted and more. A wonderful piano sat overlooking the large body of water where the ground lifted slightly. Erik could see everything from there. Christine's room was past a narrow cave and Erik's was in another that was adjacent to her own, creating a fork. The kitchen was not a kitchen in the traditional sense. They used crude materials to cook their food but they loved it all nonetheless. Erik even had an organ behind his Piano which forced him to turn his back on the entrance. He did not like this aspect of it but could find nowhere else to put it. There were two main entrances to the lair - one nearest to the kitchen and one through the river, but there were many canals that would lead to one of these entrances. It was because of this that Erik took Christine in and out of the lair whenever the time came. He did not like to risk her hurting herself because she took a wrong turn purely by accident. There were many traps laid out around their home.

Through the months Erik and Christine rehearsed tirelessly. Erik had become accustomed to their schedule. Every morning Christine woke, she sang her heart out to him, took a rest, ate, and back to singing. On days that she was instructed to rest her voice, three days out of the seven, Erik had her rehearse upcoming plays from the theater above them. At night, when all was silent except for the music above Christine and Erik sat by a makeshift fire in his music room and listened, Christine stood before him and mouthed the words to the opera she had learned while acting out all the speaking roles. She flourished and Erik enjoyed it immensely.

At night, when she slept he went up to the opera house and collected what was owed to him. It had not been difficult to instill fear in them, he had only to threaten them a few times and then follow through on those threats if they thought he was bluffing. Two men had ended up injured because of the Opera Ghost. But Erik explained himself in a note, stating:

_If the fault lies with anyone, Monsieur's, it is with you. You have failed to heed my warning and an innocent man had to pay for that mistake with his ankle. I am certain that you will pay for whatever this man needs in the future. _

Erik had done the man a favor, he thought to himself, if it were not for Erik the man would not be living as well as he did now with the managers paying for everything he wanted.

Christine on the other hand flowered under his guidance. The opera managers accepted her with full knowledge of her importance to the Opera Ghost. While they remained clueless as to what the details of their relationship they knew only that the Opera Ghost demanded that she be taken in immediately, and it was so. Christine pretended to be ignorant to the situation and did her best when the time came for her to take the stage.

The time they spent in the opera house was filled with amusement, boredom, and also many connections – at least for Christine. She had met Meg Giry, a young dancer who did not look like her mother in the slightest. She had also met Carlotta who was the opera star. She was also Erik's most hated singer, but Christine adored the woman's voice.

"I think you should visit Nadir," Erik told Christine gruffly one evening as he sat at his piano, playing a light tune, "you ears need to be checked."

When it came to Christine relationship with Erik it had taken a strange turn. Erik could not tell if it was for the better or for the worse. Christine had not made any attempts at something other than a lighthearted touch on the hand of a chaste hug since they moved in. He had watched her curiously for the first month, anticipating the day when she would kiss him but it never came. He resigned himself to the fact that Christine's love was only platonic and her kisses had been passionate but not romantic. He dedicated himself to making her the opera star and nothing else, but it did not mean that more often then not his gaze did not linger on her lips, or that at night he did not fantasize about what it would be like to have her in his arms once again.

…

"Are you dense!" Carlotta cried out as Signor Piangi mispronounced the words over and over again.

"_Roma_! It is very hard for me! Very hard!"

"_Rome," _Monsieur Reyer told him angrily, "Rome!"

"Poor man," Christine sighed from where she stood with Meg Giry at her side, "it seems that that word will ruin him come show time."

The cast rehearsed the show in it's entirety once more before it came time to rest. Monsieur Reyer was finally pleased and Christine couldn't stop giggling with Meg. Carlotta had taken notice and stomped over to them.

"You laugh at me?"

Meg looked up at the woman with a roll of her eyes and cocked her hip to the left, looking at Carlotta with impatience, "what makes you think we are speaking about you?"

The difference in the two women were striking, where Carlotta was tall, broad hipped and busty, Meg was petite, slim and muscled from dancing. Carlotta's hair was the color of flame and Meg was like that of a wheat field. Where the taller woman's eyes were a jarring green Meg's were a steel blue.

"You look at me and then you laugh!"

"We aren't speaking about you Carlotta," Christine assured her kindly – doing her best to ease the tension between her best friend and the redheaded woman, "we were simply sharing stories of our childhood that is all."

"It had best be all!" Carlotta hissed before turning and stomping towards the back of the stage. Christine bit her lip to stifle laughter. She admired the woman's singing voice but her personality left something to be desired.

"I would love to pull out all that hair on her head," Meg muttered angrily as she picked up her things from the ground, "I would leave her hairless!"

Christine smiled softly and looked up towards the boxes past the stage. She had caught movement and did not doubt for even a second that Erik was watching the entire rehearsal. When she looked she saw no one there, just as she expected, but she knew he was watching. She sensed him like she sensed the wind on her skin.

…

From where Erik watched he could see everything. Christine stood to the right with Meg Giry. Madame Giry stood to the left with some dancers, instructing them. Carlotta could be heard laughing at something even from where he stood. That woman was a nuisance of the worst kind. He despised her.

Christine had flourished underneath his tutoring. And the new found fear that the opera managers had in him made it very easy for them to acquire all that they needed, primarily, money. Madame Giry was in charge of ensuring that Christine had all the clothing that she could want. While there was still something of a street girl left in the young girl she had taken a liking to the luxurious dresses that their money could afford them. Erik himself could not deny that he enjoyed to watch her strut from the bedroom and into his presence, showing off her latest dress. The glow in her eyes gave him life. He had been able to give her this, and soon he would be able to give her more. It was all that she deserved.

Christine had also gained the beauty that was always hiding within her. The first few months of their stay in the opera house Erik had forced her to eat three meals a day. She had not refused in the slightest which made it much easier for him.

Christine's face could light up a stage. She was often smiling now, laughing at everything and taking nothing to heart. Her hair was thickened and grown down her back in luscious curls. She tried her best to tame them but had given it up recently. Her pretty wide eyes were rimmed by thick brown lashes and her face filled out, giving her the lift that her cheeks needed. Rosy colors blossomed upon her face and gave her life. His favorite feature was her wonderfully sloped nose, and of course her wide eyes. But her body had filled out as well. She was a thin woman by nature with a slim waist upon her petite figure. It made her look almost miniature, but there was a strange strength in her her hands that made no sense with the rest of her proportions.

When the rehearsals were finished he smoothly moved through the halls of the Opera Populaire. No one would see him, they were all too frightened to venture without a partner around the halls. And being that it was a rehearsal day he did not need to worry about being seen. Not that he ever did. Not anymore.

…

"You are terrible Meg Giry," Christine laughed as they entered the dressing room. She could not be sure if Erik was watching from behind the mirror but she assumed, as always, that he was.

"She is truly vile," Meg told Christine who was taking a seat on the stool before the mirror. Meg stepped up behind her and carefully removed the rehearsal wig. "Do you not hear her laughing like a crow? She reminds me of a demon."

"She is not all that terrible," Christine defended Carlotta. When one of Meg's eyebrows rose she giggled, "alright, yes. She is fairly vile. But that would happen to any one of us if we were in her position. She is praised from day to night. Of course that sort of power goes to your head."

"It is not an excuse to behave like a haughty little brat."

"Agreed," Christine smiled.

"And besides, I do not think that that would happen to you," Meg told her kindly, hugging her friend from behind. Christine blushed, "you are the kindest soul I have ever known. I do not think that if you were in her position that you would behave as she does. You know what it is to suffer and struggle. Would you take advantage of your position to make others feel terribly about themselves?"

"No, I would not."

'Exactly my point." Meg stood up straight and looked at her friend in the mirror. She had always found Christine to be a fair girl. And still could not understand why it was that she was not engaged to anyone at all. "Christine, why is that you are not in love?"

The question through the brunette off guard. She blinked at her reflection and cautiously turned around. Eyeballing her friend with suspicion, "why do you ask me that?"

"It just seems unnatural that a girl as beautiful as you has not found one man with whom she could spend even half of her time with. Don't you think that a girl as talented, as beautiful, and as intelligent as you would have someone interested in them?" Her eyes widened as she realized what she was saying. "Forgive me Christine, I did not mean to insult-

"No, no," Christine smiled softly, "you have not insulted me Meg. But it is simply that..." she did not know how to explain any of this to her. She did not know how she could explain why she stopped seeing a rich man, a handsome one at that. A kind one as well. And why she was constantly falling deeper in love with a man who lived beneath the opera house, and threatened to kill anyone who disobeyed him. "It is complicated."

"Oh come now, I have time," Meg assured her and pulled a stool close to her friend, smiling at her with encouragement. "Let me be your friend Christine, I know so little about you, and yet you know so much about me."

Christine swallowed nervously and looked at the mirror. _Are you there Erik?_

And so she began to tell Meg about everything, everything except Erik. She told her about Raoul de Chagny, and of course about her romantic relationship with him. Meg was thrilled at the small details Christine could remember about him, such as the color of his eyes and the way he would gently hold her hands as if she were made out of glass.

"How romantic," the blonde gushed lovingly over the words Christine spoke.

"It was," she smiled in memory, "he was a kind man, a sweet man. He was also as handsome as you can expect any man to be. But there was no connection between he and I. I do not mean to say that I did not feel attracted to him, any woman would. In her right mind. But I did not feel as attracted to him as I could have..."

"Then there was someone else," Meg hinted with a raised eyebrow.

"Whatever do you mean?" Christine blushed hard, "why would you think that?"

"Because you said 'as I could have'. You are are insinuating that there was an emotion lacking, and you would not know it was lacking unless you've felt it before."

The words made Christine shiver. This girl was more cunning then she gave her credit for. She would have to be careful with her words around Meg.

"There was..." she swallowed the knot in her throat and looked over her shoulder to the mirror, smiling softly before turning to her friend who noticed the movement but did not think much of it, "there is."

…

"Oh tell me more!" Meg cried out with excitement, clapping her tiny hands and grinning at Christine.

"Yes Christine, let us hear more," Erik murmured curiously, approaching the mirror as if that would allow him to hear better. But he could hear everything. He had heard everything and it took all his energy to not walk away. He knew now that it had been the right decision to stay.

"He is tall," Christine was smiling. Though her back remained turned towards him he could hear the smile in her voice, "he has dark hair, like ink. His eyes are amber in color..."

Meg sighed dreamily, and Erik raised a brow at this. What a curious girl.

"His hands are large, his fingers are long. He is a musician, and he is also quite temperamental."

_Temperamental? _Erik scowled, _I am not temperamental! _

"He enjoys reading, and composing music. He is extremely intelligent, well rounded. He is also an architect. Quite handsome as well."

Erik narrowed his eyes, it struck something in him. Was it that she wanted him to feel glad about that statement? Why had she said it at all when it was so clearly untrue? Was she trying to please his ego, to stroke his confidence? His jaw locked with annoyance. What was she trying to satisfy within him with that comment?

"What is his name?" Meg asked softly.

"He has many names," Christine told her.

"Well, he sounds like quite a mystery, and will I ever get to meet him?"

"I do not know. He enjoys keeping to himself. " Christine stood then, "I hope that one day you can meet him."

"I hope so too," Meg smiled and embraced her friend, "I must go. I will see you tomorrow morning Christine. Good evening."

"Goodbye Meg."

When Meg had left the room, and Christine was certain that she was not returning – she threw on her blue cloak and turned to face the mirror. The air grew cold and damp down below and Erik always insisted that she protect herself. It was clear to her that one of his biggest fears was that she grew sick and ruined her ability to practice.

As the mirror moved aside Christine turned her face away. A cold wind blasted forth and out of the cave , stirring her cloak backward and away from her. Erik stood there with his black cloak swaying gently against the draft.

When Christine looked up she met with his amber gaze. She smiled and stepped forward as she always did and took his hand in her own. Erik allowed her to warm his cold fingers as she stepped into the cool darkness before shutting the mirror. Her eyes shined up at him.

"How long have you been standing here?"

"I've heard what you said," he replied coolly, lifting the lantern from the ground and towing her towards the boat. Christine followed with easy steps, "Meg Giry is awfully interested in fantasies of romance. It seems to me that you are much more mature than she is."

"She and I were brought up in different circumstances. Meg is still very much protected by her mother, of course she is going to be fantasizing about romance."

When they reached the boat Erik and Christine climbed in hurriedly. They did not like to linger in the cold, with strength and efficiency Erik began to row them across the wide lake and to their home.

Something was eating at him. Christine could see it in his demeanor. Usually he had comments to make, he would complain about Carlotta or even something Christine did but today he was silent, saying very little. Could it have had something to do with her words to Meg?

"Is everything alright Erik?" She blinked up at him.

"No Christine," he answered honestly and calmly. "Everything is not alright."

"What is wrong then?"

"It is nothing for you to worry your pretty head over."

"Excuse me?" Her eyes widened. The comment rubbed her the wrong way. It made her feel like a stupid little girl with no mind of her own, "what is your problem today Erik?" _Everything had been going so well... we haven't fought in months. _

"My problem is none of your concern Christine," he told her blankly, he did not notice her hurt expression as he continued rowing. Christine remained silent and replayed the conversation in her head. At no point had she said anything wrong. Perhaps it was her words about Raoul de Chagny? She dared to glance up at him and found that his eyes were trained straight ahead.

When they pulled up on the bank of the lake Christine did not wait for him to offer her his hand, she jumped out on her own, able to do it by herself and strode quickly towards her bedroom. Erik, who was not unaware that she was annoyed did not follow. He simply threw off his cloak and began to play on the organ. The sound filled the cave.

In her room Christine removed her dress and put on trousers and a large shirt. She could not imagine what it was that hurt Erik so much, but she hoped that he would get over it. For the rest of the night Christine remained in her room and eventually fell asleep.

Dreams of M. de Chagny plagued her still.

* * *

**Woo! We are in the lair! We are also almost ending the story, I'm not sure how long it will be but I know that this is like PART 2 of the story and we are probably going to have... 15 chapters until it ends :) With that being said, soon I am going to Colombia, I don't know what this means for my update rate but that's why I've been slowing down again (busy busy busy). BUt I hope I've kept some of you interested! **


	44. You Wash Your Neck

**Chapter XLIV**

The following weeks were spent mostly in preparation for the upcoming performance of Hannibal. Christine did not have a major role, and try as she might she could not convince Erik that this was fair. She knew that he had something planned, but she could not imagine what it was. Erik had proved to be terribly secretive whenever it involved the Opera Ghost. He had explained it as being a mere precaution. He did not wish to influence her knowledge of him more than he had to out of paranoia that the Opera Managers might question her and she let something slip in her nervousness. Christine did her best to assure him that nothing like that would ever happen, scoffing at his logic. But Erik quickly reminder her that her temper knew no bounds, and when put under pressure she often said things she might not have meant to. Christine agreed that perhaps her knowing less was better.

One morning, as Christine was preparing to go up to the stage Erik stopped her before she could step past the mirror and held her lightly by the elbow. The contact made her shiver slightly as he looked at her.

"Remain far from the back of the stage today."

"What?" She blinked, confused, "what do you mean?"

"Do your best to remain at the front of the stage for today's performance, are we understood?"

"Yes," she nodded, her confusion was plain but he released her into the dressing room and then shut the mirror before she could ask him another question that he would have to ignore.

Erik waited until Carlotta got on the stage to move along the rafters above it. He was perfectly silent, he had learned how to sneak around the Opera house completely undetected and found it was also a point of pride for him. Often Christine said that he toyed too much with the idea of getting caught. She sometimes spotted him in places that others could not.

Down below him he could see Christine singing with the chorus perfectly. Her voice out shined every other voice within the opera house. It was yet another point of pride for him. Erik had worked with her tirelessly to ensure that she was ready to take the stage when the time came. That time had been long ago. She was ready. She knew all the parts, she had memorized Carlotta's choreography. Everything was perfect.

As Carlotta stepped on the stage, shrieking as he expected he grabbed hold of the rope that would send the large back piece crashing down. He knew that he could not kill the woman, it would cause too many issue and perhaps trauma if the cast witnessed her death. But perhaps a concussion would suffice.

But Erik could not stop watching Christine whose beautiful hair whirled around her as she turned about with Meg Giry and the rest of the dancers. She was quite coordinated in this particular dance, but still not perfectly on point. It was another reason why she had to take the stage as the star. Christine deserved nothing but the best and this was not what she was best in.

"Think of me," Carlotta sang, "think of me fondly..." and so on, and so forth. Erik found himself gritting his teeth as the rest of the dancers, including Christine stood to the side, allowing the woman to vocalize and destroy the aria. Erik could take very little of this and waited for the right moment. It was as she was moving backwards, adding a dramatic and distasteful flair to her movements that he pulled violently on the rope. "When you find that, once again, you long to take your heart-"

Her earsplitting shriek sounded through the air as the back piece came crashing to the floor. Christine screamed as well, jumping backwards even though she remained far from Carlotta's place. Erik calmly walked away from his place as eyeballs starting turning up and Carlotta's hysterics began.

"It's him! The Phantom of the Opera!" Cried Carlotta, clutching her head when a piece of wood had caught her. Erik hoped that she was bleeding as he walked to his usual place in box five. "He seeks to murder me!" She yelled amongst the commotion. Erik who had by now reached his place smiled at the chaos reigning down before him.

Carlotta was on her knees as Reyer pressed his handkerchief to her face, she was sobbing in her hysterics. Christine's eyes were wide and she remained far, pressed up against the piano which was on the stage to the right. Many of the dancers were looking up at the rafter, pointing and trembling. Erik smirked and took a seat. Madame Giry came to the stage and hurriedly went to the woman's side. Erik's only regret was that he had let it fall too early. It had not caught her on the head as he wished. Christine, from where she stood was now looking up towards box five, knowing that he was responsible, and also knowing that he would not remain in the scaffolding for prying eyes. He would not be so stupid.

"I will not do this thing!" Carlotta cried out, her red hair having come loose from her panic. The jade green orbs in her head were watery. "He wants me dead!"

"No, come now darling you've only experienced a scare I am sure that it was not an opera ghost but a simple error on behalf of Buquet. Buquet! Where is that man?!" Reyer yelled angrily. Erik could see the impatience written all over his face. It was at that moment that Buquet came out onto the stage and viciously defended himself stating that he was not at his post. Reyer continuously plead with Carlotta, begging her to reconsider the fact that the opening of the play was only a few days away. Surely she had a heart!

"I am leaving!" She screamed at him, causing Meg Giry to collapse beside the piano in a fit of laughter. Christine quietly scolded her as Carlotta stormed off the stage and Reyer made an attempt to follow but ultimately realized that Carlotta's fears were not misplaced.

"What will I do now!" He asked them all as Meg Giry came to her feet and wiped the tears from her face, "do you all realize that Carlotta was the only one capable of singing that song? And you Meg Giry, why do you laugh? I do not see you participating to sing the aria!"

"Christine Daae could sing it sir."

All eyes turned to the left of the stage through which Carlotta had exited. Reyer turned green and Christine's eyes widened horribly.

Out from behind the curtain stepped Raoul de Chagny. His hazel eyes glistened at her as she blushed and clenched her jaw. Meg Giry looked at her with a knowing gaze and then looked back at Raoul with something akin to nervousness. She knew what an awkward position her friend was in now.

Erik stood there with his eyes wide and his fists clenched. _What is this? _He seethed from where he stood as the fop slowly walked forward. He was staring at Christine with a calm sort of look. But there was something in his eyes. It was as if he was expecting something from her. _An explanation perhaps, _Erik thought as Reyer opened his mouth to speak.

"Miss Daae, sir?" He asked, calmer now, but still his voice trembled. "Forgive me, cast," he turned to his dancers, "this is the vicomte de Chagny. I am certain that you all know whom this is, he is our new patron." He turned back to the vicomte and asked his question again, "Miss Daae sir?"

"Yes," he stared at her sadly now, "I have heard her sing. She has been well taught."

Christine had still said nothing. Her face betrayed her. Erik could see from where he stood that she was amazed, afraid, and perhaps a bit enchanted by the young man. He had not changed much since the last time Erik had played eyes on him, but there was a changed aura about him. But perhaps it was just at seeing the change in Christine.

"She does not sing Sir-

"If you want my family to help you pay for all of these productions then you will hear miss Daae sing," Raoul told the man firmly, laying his eyes n him seriously, before turning them back upon Christine who was looking at the floor, almost doing her best to collect herself. "She will astound you. I am sure of it."

Reyer looked nervously between the two of them and then swallowed, nodding and moving towards the piano. "From the beginning of the aria then, mam'selle."

Christine swallowed nervously and moved to the center of the stage as the cast, and Raoul, moved away, giving her all the space she would need. Madame Giry handed her the detailed piece of cloth that Carlotta had dropped in her panic over the Opera Ghost. Christine looked up at her cue and opened her mouth.

Erik's senses were flooded by her. But it only served to intensify his anger. She looked beautiful, her voice soared throughout the rotund room. He could see the gaping mouths of all those around her while keeping his eyes trained on her. His anger was still burning, especially because of how the vicomte stared at her. As if _he_ were proud. _What does he have to be proud of? _Erik seethed down at them all, _she is not his to be proud of! He was not the one who freed her voice! _

Christine enchanted them all with her flawless voice, and the more she sang the closer some of them drew, including Raoul de Chagny. Erik violently turned on his heel and stalked out of the box. His hands trembled with anger. He could kill the young fop. The boy was nothing but a splinter in his side. A constant tick that he had yet to permanently remove.

As Erik stalked through the hallways Christine nervously looked at Raoul and backed slightly away from him as she sang. Erik could not have been happy at the moment. She could only imagine his ire. Certainly he was watching. He had to be. He was responsible for the backdrop falling onto the stage. She had been angry with him for that, but now it was forgotten.

When Christine finished the song they all praised her. Reyer announced quickly that she would be taking over the role for Carlotta. She thanked him and backed away from the stage as they all came rushing at her. She could see Raoul trying to have a word with her. He kept saying her name, but she was overwhelmed by her friends. Her dear friends who did not know how horrible of a position she was in now.

"Come," Meg grabbed her hand and elbowed past some ballerina's. Christine allowed her to lead her from the stage in a hurried manner as they moved through the back. She glanced behind her and knew that Raoul would soon follow them. "You looked like you would be sick!" Meg told her as she quickly jogged with her to the dressing room.

"I was," Christine told her.

Meg opened the door and found Carlotta angrily wiping tears at her face and shoving her makeup into a large bag. She turned her green eyes at them and glared. "What do you want?"

"Get out!" Meg shrieked angrily. Christine was trembling like a leaf at her side. Carlotta noticed the same and frowned.

"Is she alright?"

"Get out!" Meg repeated, rushing forward and grabbing all of her makeup and then the bag. In one fatal swoop she shoved all of the makeup into the bag and then grabbed Carlotta by the arm who was cursing the small blonde woman. Meg threw the bag out of the room and onto the floor before pulling Christine into the dressing room and shutting Carlotta out.

"Sit!" Meg commanded the green looking girl. Christine did as she was bid and then turned to the mirror.

"Meg give me a few moments alone."

"I will hold him off as long as I can." Meg nodded, knowing how frightened Christine was. She rushed out of the room then and went off in search of Raoul, ignoring Carlotta who came storming after her.

Inside the room Christine immediately grabbed her cloak off of the wall. Erik was already pulling the mirror aside. She stuttered out a greeting before moving past the mirror and waiting for him to say something. He was seething. She could feel it coming off of him in waves. His eyes were fire against the glow of the lantern. He took her hand firmly and began to pull her down under.

As soon as they were in the boat she began to rant nervously.

"I do not know what happened. I-I did not expect him to be here. I saw him and thought I saw a ghost. For a moment I thought I was hallucinating Erik. I did not invite him here if that is what you are thinking. I'd never do something like that. Can you believe that he would do that to me? Asking Reyer to allow me to sing? Who does he think he is? I suppose I should be grateful." She ranted on and on. Erik said nothing at all imagining all the deaths that he could give Raoul de Chagny. Christine was naïve, she did not understand why he was so angry, and she voiced this confusion when they reached the rocky land of their home.

"Erik?" she asked, coming after him as he tossed his robe to the ground, stalking towards his organ and playing a violent tune. His jaw was locked so hard that she could see the muscle there straining against his skin. His eyes were awfully narrow. "Erik say something to me?" She begged him, breathing heavily with panic, "I do not know what to make of this."

Erik was not hearing her, not much anyway. His fingers ran over the keys fast, hard, making the organ thunder as if it were his own voice. How he wanted to hurt that miserable boy. _I should have killed him as well. _Christine could never understand the threat that this boy posed to his life, and it was all because of her.

"Erik say something to me!" She yelled furiously, slamming her hand down on the organ and cutting of the music he played. Erik's fingers stopped as she continued, "you cannot ignore me. I know that something is bothering you and it no doubt as to do with Raoul's presence but you cannot ignore me as if I am at fault. I knew nothing about this and yet you sit there and ignore me?"

Her masked fiend sat there for a long moment. His eyes saw nothing. She continued to search his face for any sign of anything but found nothing. His face did not betray him like her own did. Finally he stood up and stared down at her. When their gazes met she felt a cold feeling shoot down her spine.

"You will not talk to him Christine," he stated quietly, warningly, "I do not know what he is here for but I doubt that his intentions are all pure. I imagine that he somehow found out about where it is that you are and wanted to come see you."

"There is no way that he would have known that I am here," she told him sincerely, "I know that he has many connections but it is not logical that someone would point out my name and tell him that this is where I was. That makes no sense."

"Then why is he here!" Erik exclaimed furiously, grabbing her arm and bringing her close, he was trembling with rage at that boy, "I _hate_ him! I do not want him here. Send him away!"

"I cannot just send him away," she stuttered, shaking in his grip, "I do not have that power."

"Tell him that you detest him and that you never want to see him again. Ensure that he does not ask for your audience with the Managers of the Opera house. You know very well that he will want to speak with you privately. And you know about what. I expect that you will obey me and ignore him to the best of your abilities."

"Obey you?" Her eyes widened and she shoved at his chest, he remained firm on her arm, "who do you think I am? I do not _obey _you," her eyes were ice now against his fire, "I will see him if I want to!"

"Then you do want to?" his eyes narrowed.

"I do not!" She hissed and made another attempt to shove him away but he took her other arm in his grip too. She was all too aware of the proximity. Christine turned her face away, glaring out towards the body of water to her right. Erik's face was close to her own now, she could hear his breath and almost feel his skin and the plastic of his mask as he stared at her.

"Christine," his voice was soft, delicate almost despite it's deep undertones, "promise me that you will not seek an audience with him. You must swear it to me." He quickly released her arms only to press her closer to him. The quick shuffle of his hands did not give her ample time to release herself from his strong grasp. "I am begging you. Do not do this to me."

"I am not doing anything to you Erik," her voice came out harder than she had intended it, but she could not smooth out her voice, "I am innocent in this and yet you choose to persecute me."

"I am not persecuting you," _I am protecting you, _he thought as he began to feel her slacking in his hold, her joints no longer as stiff as before, "I am only... seeking to protect you," he almost choked it out.

"Raoul would never hurt me." She whispered quietly, looking up to Erik with a frightened gaze. Something lingered behind his words, and she did not know what it was but it was something like fear. "Erik... Raoul would not harm me."

"If you love me at all then you will not speak to him. You will avoid him at any cost Christine," his grip tightened on her and for a long moment she remained silent. Had he just acknowledged her love, and then used it as a source of power? "I am begging you," his eyes searched her own blue depths.

"Alright Erik," she breathed, dropping her head to his shoulders, completely aware suddenly that her feet were off the ground. She wrapped both arms around his neck and shut her eyes, "I will not speak with him."

"Thank you Christine," he murmured, breathing a sigh of relief.

She nodded and pulled back to stare at him for a long moment, very aware of the way he watched her mouth and licked his own lips. "Why do you hate him so much Erik?" Her eyes searched his face but he gave nothing away, as usual, "I do not understand what he has done to you."

"He has posed a threat Christine," Erik told her simply, gripping her with one arm firmly and allowing his other hand to touch her hair, stroking it carefully. He loved the texture of her hair, and despite what he had promised himself before he could not stop himself from wanting to kiss her. The proximity did not help him.

"A threat?" Her fingers touched the long strands of hair was the back of his neck. She would have to give him a hair cut, "what sort of threat Erik?"

The amber orbs in his head rose to meet her gaze, "you know exactly what sort of threat," he did not enjoy having to say it out loud. It made him feel like a love sick fool. A blush covered her face – giving her away.

"I do not know," she played coy, it didn't suit her well. For an actress she did not know how to feign innocence. Her pretty blue eyes dropped to his mouth. She was closing the distance between the two of them, and he would not stop her if she chose to kiss him.

"You are mine," he murmured quietly as her lips grazed his own. Thunder rolled down his chest and abdomen and straight to his groin as she tentatively brushed her mouth against his, "he threatens to take you away."

"That would never happen," she whispered softly, shutting her eyes and ignoring the way her body wanted to rub against his, "I would never leave you Erik. Never in a million years. The sun would be snuffed out before that."

And then she did kiss him. Her lips molded themselves carefully against his own. She had waited a long time for this, but then so had he. His soft sigh made her quiver. He was more vulnerable than she was in these things, and it made it easier to deal with. She was in control, not he.

"I love you," he purred against her mouth, stifling any other sounds. He set her down onto the piano, carefully placing his hands at her hips and relishing in the way she dominated his lips, turning his face this way and that to allow her better access. He almost whimpered with pleasure when she pulled at his hair slightly. "Christine..."

"Don't speak," she whispered sweetly. She was only slightly taller then him now that she sat above the piano. She lifted her legs and stepped onto the keys, the sound echoed throughout the lair but he did not care. She had kicked off her shoes long go. His hands were feverish at her hips, gripping her so tightly that she began to wonder if she'd bruise. But his mask continued to get in the way of what she was doing. She ignored it and continued to kiss him. Enjoying the way he reacted. She could sense that he was reeling himself back, it was clear in the way he suddenly slammed his hands down onto the piano. They were trembling, and he would not touch her. He did not want to.

"Touch me," she ordered him softly, kissing his neck as he looked off towards the body of water. Gritting his teeth as he fought for self control. She was a siren, a seductress, but he could not afford to lose to her tonight. Or ever. He would not harm her. "Touch me," she whispered again, allowing her hands to slide under his arms and pulling him closer. His nails began to dig into the top of the piano. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to feel her flesh beneath his fingertips. But he could not do it.

"Christine please," his voice was taking a husky turn, and he continued to allow her to maul his throat with her mouth. Her breathing was getting loud, and his was getting short. "We cannot."

"Why not?" She whispered huskily.

"It... just," he did not know what answer to provide. "I will not do this to you. I cannot."

"You want to," she pulled her face back and went for his lips again, but she stopped her with both hands at either side of her face. Her eyes were darkened with arousal, it was amazing to him. He could see the flush on her face, and the swell of her lips.

"I cannot do this to you, not with... what happened."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Her throat tightened. "What happened..."

"Yes Christine," he reached up and stroked her soft cheek, "you're not ready. You just want to.. forget. You aren't ready for this yet."

Christine's eyes went from dark to empty. It seemed that something had clicked, but instead of being angry she seemed to be embarrassed.

She looked away from him and swallowed. Nodding, silent and resigned.

Without another word she hopped down from the piano and began to quietly walk away towards the kitchen on the other side. He ran a hand through his hair. She was upset. How could she not understand his reasoning?

"Hello?" A foreign voice came calling. Christine and Erik turned towards the entrance nearest to the kitchen and frowned with confusion, it could only be one person. As he stepped forward into the light of the lair Christine smiled, wiping away the empty expression on her face and grinning. "Well, don't you look radiant," Nadir grinned as she ran towards him and embraced him. Erik did his best to look as normal as he usually did, "and you Erik," Nadir smirked, "well you look as morose as usual. I take it things are going well?"

* * *

**NADIR! WE'VE MISSED YOU! AND RAOUL?! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST STAY AWAY!**

**Well I mean... I do need you for the story but whatever! Stay away fool! STAY AWAY. **


	45. Snow

**Chapter XLV**

As Nadir and Erik spoke Christine escaped to the kitchen and began to make them something to eat. Her thoughts were racing. She knew that she should not have been so obvious about her discomfort around Erik with Nadir there, but she couldn't stand to be in his presence. The feeling of embarrassment that swept through her was enough to make her cry, but she had luckily held it together and not done anything that would cause her further shame.

"Of course he would not want to do anything with me," she reasoned quietly as Erik and Nadir conversed in the small space Erik had created for reading, and company. "I am untouchable to him now. I am soiled." Her heavy handed movements did not go unheard.

From where Erik and Nadir sat they could hear Christine rummaging around. She had insisted on making something to eat despite the fact that they were both not hungry. Erik had been evading the topic of Christine for long enough, but Nadir would have no more of it.

"Why is it that you and she can never get along?" Nadir's frowned at Erik who was staring at his fingernails, "you are both similar enough. But perhaps that is the problem, you are both too tenacious." He paused, "have you considered that it will drive the two of you apart if you continue to argue the way that you do?"

At this Erik's gaze snapped up. The comment irked him. Christine had explicitly promised to never abandon him and he did not appreciate Nadir insinuating otherwise, "that will never happen."

"And what makes you so certain of that?"

"Christine told me that that will never happen. And she has nowhere to go. We will be together, here, always. I do not appreciate you saying otherwise. If you came here to create some sort of-

"I did not come here to argue with you," the Persian assured him with a strange gaze, "but it is clear to me that something is bothering the two of you again. I'd rather find out quickly than be forced to pry." A smile lit his face, "and you know very well that I will if I have to."

Erik thought about it for a moment. He knew very well that he wouldn't hear the end of it until Nadir was satisfied. _And his advice would not be unwelcome. _Without further delay he gave a quick explanation of what had happened starting with Raoul de Chagny's arrival at the opera house. Nadir was surprised to learn this. He lowered his voice and leaned forward.

"This is a very dangerous thing Erik," Nadir quietly told him as the sounds of Christine cooking sounded, "if Christine should find out that his father was murdered it will mean that she will grow immediately suspicious. She is not a stupid girl. She will draw the conclusion that you had something to do with it. This must be handled."

"I know that." His eyes turned dark again, "but that boy is not going to rest until he has spoken to her. I know it."

"Well then ensure that you stop it at all costs. Christine cannot know about her fathers death, at least not by his mouth. If it were someone other than Raoul who told her that his father was dead then I do not think she'd draw a line to you. But – if it comes from his own mouth she will somehow deduce that you did it. I know it." Nadir scowled, "no good can come out of his presence."

"But what can I do?" Erik stood up angrily, "I returned with her and explained that I would rather she not see the boy and then," he lowered his voice again, "she began to assure me that he would never hurt her. Clearly I have not told her the reasons why I do not want him near her but after all this I finally made her agree to avoid him. And then..." he turned his eyes to the entrance, "she kissed me. And I rejected her advances after a while. I think my explanation of why offended her to some degree."

"What did you say?" Nadir asked.

"I simply told her that I cannot have her after what happened to her." The thought of that man touching Christine drove him more mad everyday. "She has not spoken to me since then."

Nadir slapped a hand over his face and shook his head. "Truly Erik, you are an intelligent young man but you are also the most dense I have ever met. How did it occur to you to say something like that? Have you lot all your wits along with your courage?"

"I simply meant to say that I worry about what her reaction might be when she comes to the full realization of what would happen between she and I if we were to have..." he gritted his teeth, "intercourse. I know that many women-

"Christine does not hear it that way," Nadir hissed, "Christine no doubt thinks that you are disgusted with her. Go and apologize to her, now."

Erik frowned. Christine would not be that silly. He could never be ashamed of her. In any way at all. It amazed him that Nadir had drawn that conclusion only because he had been so terribly confused. "I will apologize to her later if she will allow me to speak with her."

Nadir nodded and sighed.

When Christine returned to them she had made a delicate pastry. Erik took it from her with an intent look and she ignored him, sitting down on the seat closest to Nadir and smiling as he hummed with approval. They all discussed how life under the opera house was going. Throughout the conversation Erik continued to do his best to speak with Christine, but she easily dodged his questions and ignored him. Nadir could see Erik's annoyance rising and Christine did not care though she could sense it in the air. The conversation continued like this and before they knew it Nadir was getting up to leave.

Christine and Erik saw him out through the tunnels and only when he bid them farewell and left did Erik turn on Christine.

She was too busy staring out at the snow covered streets to say anything to him, or to even acknowledge his presence. He had meant to say something to her, but now he could not. She looked stunning with the cold air moving her hair backwards and away from her face. How long had it been since Christine and he had been out on the streets together? He could not remember.

"Would you like to go outside?" He asked her quietly, almost shyly. Christine looked up at him, somewhat shocked at the offer. Erik had made it clear to her many months ago that he would only venture out when it was absolutely necessary. She missed their nights of gallivanting and thieving.

"Y-yes." She stuttered, not noticing the pained look in his face. He realized only then how much she missed these small walks of theirs.

Pushing open the creaky and circular gate they stepped forward and out of the tunnel. Erik closed the gate behind them, and looked towards the Opera house. He had discovered that this entrance did eventually lead to the opera house lair but it was not a part of the opera house itself. It was part of another building entirely.

"Come," he took her hand and lead her quietly through the snow covered street. Christine's little hand trembled in his own – so he gripped it more firmly. _Is it out of fear that she shakes, or the cold? Or both? _He swallowed the knot at his throat and looked towards her. Her eyes were on him. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I am," she lied quietly, angry at the way she naturally shuffled closer to his side and gripped his arm with her other hand, pressing in close, "I simply did not expect this."

"I am certain that there are many things tonight which you did not expect." His eyes remained vigilant of her expression. "I said something to you earlier which came out in a way that I did not intend. I hope you will forgive me. And I know that you are aware of what it is that I am talking about."

Christine would have broken out into a sweat if not for the cold wind brushing at her forehead, "I was very hurt by your words."

"I only meant that I did not want to do anything with you because I was unsure of your motives. I did not want to make you frightened."

"I was not frightened," she assured him. Looking down the street and shivering, "I was ready. I am ready."

"There is no reason to do what you want to do Christine," he told her softly, noting the way she frowned, "you and I may love each other. But to have intercourse is not... we should not."

"Why?"

"Why?" He frowned, "are you being purposefully ignorant? You know why," he stopped then and shook his head at her, "I am a cretin from the depths of hell Christine. You are aware of my deformity and what I was forced into. You saved me from it. Do you think that I can bare the sight of your eyes lingering upon my scars? I want to save you from such a horrible sight."

"You are wrong," she shook her head, "I would not be afraid."

"You would be," he assured her, taking her hand again and walking forward. He felt calm when she touched him, "everyone was."

"I am not everyone," she reminded him, sadly looking at him, "I ..." her face turned red.

"I know Christine," he reached beside him without looking at her and easily stroked her cheek as they walked, she pressed her face into his large hand, "I know that you want... that." She nodded. "Give it time."

"Yes, Erik." she quietly resigned and smiled then, doing her best to forget about her previous hurt. "But... are you and I … are we..." she did not know how to put it. A ghost smile spread over his face.

"You are mine Christine, and I am yours."

**…**

The next rehearsals went well. Very well in fact. Reyer was swooning at Christine's voice and Meg Giry was proudly parading her best friend. Christine blushed whenever she was not singing and Erik watched every performance with a critical eye, always looking for any room for improvement. His pride sometimes overwhelmed him and he found himself waiting for Christine at the mirror pacing. And when she would finally appear he'd launch into praise. Christine would humbly smile and listen to his critique carefully.

She had been able to expertly dodge Raoul at every turn. Whenever she rehearsed no one was allowed to bother her, especially not the vicomte which Reyer made perfectly clear. She did not even look at him, or acknowledge his presence. She sang out to box five. Raoul would often try to catch her as she was leaving the stage to go to her lair but Meg had grown more protective in the following weeks and distracted him long enough for Christine to make an escape. Erik made a note to leave Meg a gift for her diligence.

The managers were overwhelmed with stress. They wondered if Christine would be able to pull off the performance come showtime.

"It is one thing to rehearse," Andre had stated firmly in front of the entire cast as Christine looked up towards Box five where Erik stood, "but it is another to put it on in front of an audience. Miss Daae," her attention snapped back down to him, "I expect that you will put on the performance of a life time."

"I will sir," she assured him, her blue eyes did not display any confidence.

For the following days Erik and Christine rehearsed, night after night after night. He would not have her fail. Whenever she snapped, growing annoyed with his picky attitude he would calmly wait for her to finish her tangent. Then they'd spill back into song.

Finally performance day came. Christine was backstage with Meg applying makeup to her face and Erik sat in his box, prepared and anxious. Down below people were filing in, he could only see the back of their heads but he did not miss the two blonde men who strode in and began to shake hands with various gentlemen. Philippe and Raoul de Chagny. He wondered what it would be like to mingle amongst the people of Paris. To proudly show off their faces and grin and touch one another...

_Fools, _he thought jealously as he turned his gaze back to the stage.

Backstage Christine and Meg walked alongside one another towards the curtain. Reyer met them behind the curtain and placed two encouraging hands on Christine's shoulders, the girl was trembling slightly. Hardly hearing him as he told her that she would do well.

Her thoughts were on her, not on Erik, or Raoul who would certainly be watching. She was thinking about herself and wondering if she would really be able to do this.

"Places!" Reyer called. Meg kissed Christine on the cheek, wishing her luck and ran to the other side of the stage.

* * *

**Woo! I'll probably be updating again today because I've hammered down quite a few chapters that will hopefully set your hair on edge! ANYWAY, my Colombia trip is in four days. I AM SO EXCITED. I am going to see my sister from another mother... father... country... and bloodline haha! Anyway! Expect some more today or tomorrow! :) **


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